


Learning Curve

by helens78



Category: Firefly RPF, Superman Returns RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-24
Updated: 2008-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan, Brandon and Sean are members of the same kinky club. Nathan's a sub, Sean's his best friend and occasional top, and Brandon's the new kid on the block. It's all fun and games until things get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who Are You?; The Alley

As far as Nathan was concerned, any night of the week was a good night to head down to the Establishment and check out the public play space. On a Thursday night the crowd ought to be full but not overwhelming: people were starting to relax as the week came to a close, people who didn't work Fridays would be there kicking off their weekends, but it wouldn't have the crush of people the way it would on Friday or Saturday night.

His own weekend schedule wasn't completely clear -- he had plans to meet his best friend Sean and take in some kind of movie on Saturday afternoon -- but there was nothing preventing him from looking around to see if there were any tops who might be looking for a casual scene. Not that tops were usually standing around with nothing to do -- the Establishment might have everything a body could want on the premises, but it couldn't help the fact that subs tended to outnumber doms -- but Nathan was open and forthright and didn't have any trouble asking for what he wanted. _That_ was a tendency a lot of his fellow subs didn't share, and if he met the right guy, it could lead to a quick and friendly hookup. Just what he was in the mood for tonight.

Nathan was generally not the type to advertise himself, and tonight was no exception. He was dressed in everyday jeans and a white t-shirt, and he'd checked his leather jacket at the door. Open play rooms were kept nice and warm, which meant all that leather could get stifling if he got stuck in it long enough. He glanced around at the different people scening, noting familiar faces, familiar bodies, and the occasional new guy.

_Hold that thought._ There was a scene happening in the northwest corner of the room with a dom, a sub, and some kind of middleman -- maybe a supporting sub, maybe a supporting dom. Either way, the dom was both new to Nathan and, near as Nathan could tell, new to the scene altogether. He was getting instruction and taking it in carefully, nodding, then applying that advice to the way his strokes landed on the sub's ass.

It was the kind of scene Nathan enjoyed participating in himself; he'd played both the sub role and the middleman role a number of times. As a middleman, he was more comfortable as a submissive's coach, but he'd certainly done his share of subbing for new doms. And he'd have been crazy not to want to take the sub's place this time around; the novice dom was gorgeous, 6'4" if he was an inch, obviously young -- probably mid-twenties -- dark hair, and Jesus Christ almighty but those clothes didn't hide an ounce. The kid was _built_. Nathan wondered who his trainer was for about half a second before more important questions began coming to mind, such as _does he play with strangers?_ and _how have I not noticed this kid before?_

Luckily for Nathan, staring wasn't unusual around here -- as long as you were at a polite distance, to avoid interfering with the scene itself. He caught himself before he actually started drooling, and he tapped a passing floor supervisor on the arm and nodded at the scene. "Hey there," he said.

"Hey, Nathan, what's up?"

"Who's the kid?"

The supervisor -- slender, blonde hair, six ear piercings, wearing a name tag that read 'Nigel' -- grinned both at the dom and at Nathan. "I've been getting a lot of that tonight. His name's Brandon. Good kid, brand new. Last name 'Routh', spelled like 'mouth'."

"Routh-the-mouth? And he tops?"

"So far he does. Like I said, brand new. We'll see how long that lasts." Nigel winked. "Put yourself in line, I'm sure he'd find some time for you."

Nathan affected a hurt look. "Time for me? Why isn't it me trying to find time for him?"

Nigel just laughed. "Twenty-six-year-old kid who comes here looking like that and wants to top? He can write his own ticket."

"Point," Nathan agreed. "Take care, man."

"You, too." Nigel went on his way, leaving Nathan to look back at Brandon, and then to the rest of the room, taking in the subs who were either participating in scenes or watching them. Nathan straightened up a little and sucked in his stomach.

"A couple hours in the gym would help more," said a voice. A very familiar voice. "You can't hold your breath forever, and I thought breathplay left you cold anyhow."

Nathan was grinning by the time Sean finished talking. "Fuck you, too," he said, reaching out to pull him into a hug. "I didn't think you'd be looking for a scene tonight, or I'd have called before I left."

Sean grinned back at him. "It's nice to know I'm not your last choice -- even if I'm not a twenty-six-year-old kid who's just figuring out he likes to hurt people. God, look at that." Even Sean couldn't help admiring the curve of Brandon's shoulders -- though it was always possible he was actually admiring the bright red patch Brandon was beating into his sub's ass. "I remember those days. He's got to be feeling like a kid in a candy store."

"What kind of candy does that make me?"

Sean looked Nathan over head-to-foot and raised his eyebrows. "You, huh? Well, let's see. You don't go out of your way to look flashy, and you're definitely not a new-to-the-shelf kind of thing--"

"Thanks a lot," Nathan grumbled, starting to wonder if he should have kept his mouth shut.

"But you're honest and dependable and you definitely deserve to be considered a classic. Maybe a peanut butter cup?"

"How the _hell_ do you come up with 'peanut butter cup' after all that?" Nathan asked, laughing out loud.

"You're the one who asked," Sean pointed out. He reached out and tucked his fingers into Nathan's waistband. "So do I need to convince you to find a quiet corner with me, or will you follow me out of here if I start walking?"

"Not so fast. How'd you know how old the kid is?" Nathan asked, nodding back to the corner. Sean followed his gaze; Brandon had moved on to a figure-eight pattern up on his sub's shoulders, and though it wasn't as seamless as it would have been under a more experienced dom's hands, it looked pretty good.

"I looked him up a couple of weeks ago. It was one of his first days, after his second or third class--"

"Oh, he's been taking classes?"

"Yep. Anyway, he was so wide-eyed I thought he was going to pass out just from being in an open play space that was this busy. I let him watch while I did a pickup scene, and we talked some afterward. He's a good kid. He just needs to pick up enough confidence to do this the right way."

"Fair enough." It wasn't easy getting his eyes off Brandon, but Nathan figured he had a window of opportunity with Sean, and he didn't want to blow it and go home alone. Sean could put up with a fair amount of Nathan looking at other guys, but if an offer was on the table, he didn't like being treated like a last resort. "Okay, back to you. What are you after tonight?"

"I'm open to suggestion."

If Nathan were anyone else, he probably wouldn't have gotten such an amorphous offer. Unlike Nathan, Sean _had_ come here advertising himself -- leather chaps over blue jeans, leather vest over black t-shirt, flagging "bondage" from the top. Not the least bit intimidating -- Sean was 5'10" to Nathan's 6'1", built slim, and smiled rather than having a tendency to smirk -- but he got plenty of attention when he went cruising. And even if he wasn't an obvious killer dom, Nathan knew him well enough to know he'd give Nathan almost anything he wanted out of a scene if Nathan was willing to ask for it.

But most of the time Sean came here looking for something specific, only willing to give open-ended offers to subs he knew well. Nathan was just the opposite. The better he knew someone, the more specific his fantasies started getting. With Sean, scene ideas were already popping into his head fully-formed. "How would you feel about a nice wall fuck with some bondage and maybe a little light verbal humiliation?" he asked.

"Like it's a good thing you're asking me and not the newbie." Sean grinned and tightened his grip on Nathan's waistband.

"Yeah, humiliation isn't something I'd throw at a kid who's been here what, five, six times?"

"Uh-huh. On a first scene, no less."

"Definitely not. But we're not talking about him anymore."

"Oh, we're not?" Sean asked. Scratch what Nathan had said about him not smirking; the look on his face definitely qualified.

"No. You want to get out of here and grab a coffee while we hammer out the details?"

"Sure."

The café was more densely packed than the open play space had been. A lot of people were there to cruise, but more of them were just relaxing on a Thursday night, some with friends, some with books. Nathan picked out a small table near the center of the room while Sean headed to the counter to get drinks. Nathan didn't have to worry about him flirting with the barrista and getting distracted; pretty as the girl was, women were not Sean's type. He came back to the table with drinks in hand and straddled his chair, and Nathan felt a jolt of interest run down his spine. Theirs was a friendship built on one hell of a lot of chemistry, and at times like this that chemistry packed one hell of a punch. This was going to be a good night.

"Talk to me about this wall scene," Sean invited, blowing on the surface of his espresso. "Is this a full-out roleplay?"

Sean had come back with a cappucino for Nathan, which he started sipping despite the heat; his tongue could handle it. "Not full-out with dossiers and fake names, maybe, but something where I've just stepped out of the club, it's a rough night and I haven't gotten what I was looking for--"

"--and I drag you into the alley to give it to you? I can work with that." It was pretty familiar territory, really; they'd done any number of scenes like that one. "Same safeword--?"

"You know I don't like to--"

"And you know I won't go without one, so cough up. 'Serenity'?"

Nathan rolled his eyes and nodded. Sean knew he'd probably never use it, but it had to be there. "'Serenity' works."

"Any sore spots I should know about, anything I need to stay away from? Physical or emotional?"

"Nothing you don't know about already. Leave the face out of it except maybe collateral when I hit a wall; sky's the limit on humiliation, but trying to play my age on me isn't going to turn me on."

Sean gave him an odd look. "When have I ever tried to play your age on you?"

"Never. I'm just saying." Nathan took another drink. "Anything else?"

"You feel like wearing a collar tonight?"

It was a legitimate question, even if it didn't feel like it fit the scene. They'd done one or two lately with Nathan in a collar. "Not tonight, if that's all right with you."

"It's me. It's fine." Sean grinned. "Private space seems like it'll work out best for this, don't you think?"

"Definitely."

"Stand up and let me get a look at you."

_Hell, yes._ Nathan took one more drink of his cappucino and took to his feet, stepping back from the table so Sean could look him over. It was a long, deliberate look, taking in everything from Nathan's relatively new haircut -- still long enough to get a grip on if Sean was trying -- to his t-shirt, jeans, and boots. By the time Sean reached out and rubbed his fingertips over the front of Nathan's belt, Nathan was so hard it had to be obvious. He wasn't wearing any underwear, either, but that was standard for him.

"How much do you care about these clothes?"

"Not at all."

"I'm not talking knives here. Not for an on-the-fly scene. But I might get that shirt a little rumpled."

"I can handle rumpled," Nathan said. He grinned.

"Put your arms behind your back."

Nathan spread his legs wider and got his hands where they'd been ordered, left hand going around his right wrist. Sean's hand moved from his belt to his hip and then down, over his thigh. It took some effort not to groan.

"You look good tonight," Sean said quietly. "Sit down and we'll finish charting out the scene."

Nathan exhaled and sat down carefully, adjusting his cock once he got there. "What else do you need to know, sir?" he asked. Sean grunted, sitting up straighter and dropping a hand into his own lap to make an adjustment. Fair was fair; if Sean was going to turn Nathan upside-down with a couple of orders and a touch, Nathan could do the same with titles.

"Names?" Sean asked.

"How about we come up with those on-the-fly, once we get there."

"Ooh." Sean grinned. "First-time scenario?"

"Works for me." Nathan grinned back. First-time scenarios were a particular favorite of Sean's, and that dovetailed nicely with the scene Nathan had in mind. "It sounds like we're working with a nice cliché here; I'm leaving this club because I didn't find what I was looking for..."

"You're leaving a club, you run into me, I back you into the wall. We don't know each other..."

"We don't know each other," Nathan confirmed. "And you can come after me as hard as you want."

Sean shifted in his seat, and Nathan could tell he liked that idea. It was a stronger offer than a casual observer might realize. Sean packed a surprising amount of muscle into his frame and was more than capable of shoving Nathan into walls hard enough to leave those collateral bruises he'd negotiated into the scenario. And they'd played together often enough that Nathan wasn't going to be taken by surprise when the shortest dom in the room shoved him up against the wall and made it count. "All right," Sean told him. "I need ten minutes to get my gloves out of my locker, so go ahead and get us a room, then go up and get lubed. Put your clothes back on when you've done it, and I'll take care of the rest."

Nathan had caught the important word out of that, which was _gloves_, and he grinned ear-to-ear. "See you in ten," he said.

"See you then."

Sean took off for the first-floor storage room, and Nathan headed to the concierge's desk on the first floor. "Hi there."

"Hi yourself." Tonight's concierge was a friendly redhead named Cindy, someone Nathan had flirted with a few times. Not that it ever went anywhere; Nathan wasn't entirely sure whether concierges were allowed to take advantage of the facilities or not. He assumed so -- surely nobody would take a job in a place like this without wanting to indulge in the perks? -- but he'd never asked. She was damned good at her job, though, and as soon as Nathan told her he was looking for a room for an alley scene, she did her magic with her keyboard and monitors, and tapped the screen. "Okay, you're not looking for anything special, load-bearing hooks or anything?"

"Uh-uh, no, just the wall's fine."

"Have you seen our alley/suite combination rooms?"

_Christ, this place really does have everything._ "I don't think so..."

"They're new. Let me show you what they've got."

She swiveled her monitor around to show him a floorplan. It looked a little claustrophobic at first -- mostly a 5'x10' corridor the size of a storage unit -- but there was a door on one of the long walls that led to an actual hotel room, complete with bed and bathroom. "The door's made up to look like a warehouse door, but it isn't hard to open or locked or anything like that. Your top should have no trouble with it. The room itself's brick on both sides, paved with concrete, a little street litter thrown in for atmosphere. Nothing you could trip over. There is, however, one 'strategic' waste box, cardboard, that actually contains some lube and condoms, should you happen to need them in the heat of the moment."

"God, I love fantasy."

"It has its benefits, doesn't it?" Cindy agreed. "Speaking of fantasy, there's an LCD-screen window on the back wall that makes it look like you're outside, as long as you're not fucking right up against it -- which, I might add, is not advisable. Try to avoid getting any liquids on the screen, please."

"Of course. No worries on that end. That'll do great." And it was a hell of a lot safer than _really_ fucking in an alley, which Sean and Nathan had done from time to time.

"Do you want it room-temperature, a little cold, a little warm? I can get the thermostat going now."

"A little warm if you can manage it," Nathan said immediately. Neither one of them preferred playing in cold rooms, and Nathan would take a hot September evening over the real April temperature any time.

"No problem." Cindy slid a touch-screen signature pad over. "If you could initial and date this, please?"

Nathan signed electronically, and Cindy handed him a keycard. "My top's Sean Maher; please give him a key and let him know when I went up."

"Will do. Have a good night, Nathan."

"Thanks!" Nathan headed for the elevators and grinned. _Oh, yeah. Good night? Definitely._

The room was exactly as Nathan had pictured it, and it was heating up already. There were even some street noises, a few rumbling engines in the distance. He chuckled; even for something like this, the sound system was excellent.

The "waste box" was near the sliding door to the hotel suite, and under a crumpled piece of newspaper there were supplies -- a few different kinds of condoms, some latex and nitrile gloves, a few different kinds of lube. Nathan dropped his pants, picked out a nice water-based lubricant, and prepped himself. There were moist towelettes to clean up with in the box, too, and a smaller, lined box meant for _real_ waste, both of which he made use of. He got his jeans back on and rearranged the newspaper. The box was still a little conspicuous, but what the hell; that was what fantasy was for.

By the time the door opened a second time, Nathan was in character and ready to start. He had his thumbs tucked through his belt loops and was looking at the screen -- if you didn't look too hard at the pixels, it really _did_ look like the room opened right out onto a street. Cars passed by on occasion, but no people. He glanced over his shoulder as the door slammed shut, and he gave Sean a once-over before turning back to the screen. Except -- damn, no, he was going to have to look again. Sean had swapped his vest for a leather motorcycle jacket, and he was wearing gloves now, tight black gloves that just came up to the wrist. Head-to-toe leather.

_Cheater_, Nathan thought, mouth going dry as his cock got hard.

"Hey," Sean said.

"Hey."

Sean grinned and walked up -- not too fast, not too slow. Nathan stood still and watched him approach, catching the way his eyes moved over the room and noted the "waste box", the LCD window, the warehouse door that led to the real hotel room. One more step forward, and Sean was close enough to reach out and touch him. He did just that, putting his hand on Nathan's ass. Nathan glanced down at Sean's hand, then back up at his face, and raised an eyebrow.

"That's one hell of an opening. You got a name?" Nathan asked.

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

Sean stretched his hand out, and that got Nathan's attention again. Leather splayed over his ass -- _dammit. It's hard to play cool when you're pushing a button that hard,_ he thought, giving Sean a grin that was meant to look hesitant. "Nate. You know you're kind of crowding me..."

"Trust me, I'm not. You'd know if I were crowding you. My name's Sean."

Nathan turned around, moving out from under Sean's hand. "Right. This is nice and all, but my ride's gonna be here any minute--"

"That's too bad."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "How's that?"

"Well, you obviously didn't get what you were looking for back there--" Sean jerked a thumb back towards the door. "I thought I'd come out and see if I could help with that."

Nathan said nothing, trying to decide how hard to get he was going to play this. He didn't have a chance to come to a full conclusion on that, though, because Sean grabbed him by the wrist and walked him -- slowly, slow enough Nathan could have pulled away if there'd been any reason in the world to do it -- back into the wall.

"Don't think," Sean murmured. "Go with it."

"Fuck," Nathan whispered, and that wasn't acting at all. Sean knew him just well enough to make a scene like this not just work but _fly_; he slid his hand up Nathan's arm, thumb rubbing the inside of it in circles. The drag was smooth, the leather was warm -- Nathan had time to let out one soft groan before Sean pressed in hard and kissed him.

The scent of leather was so thick Nathan was half-drowning in it, and he spread his legs wider without even thinking about what he was doing. Sean took advantage, stepping in and shoving his thigh between Nathan's legs. He rubbed up hard, and Nathan gasped under his lips. _Leather,_ he thought again. He could practically feel all the blood in his body rushing straight to his cock.

"Want me?" Sean murmured.

"I--"

Sean sank his teeth into Nathan's lower lip, not too hard, just enough to make Nathan stop talking. He pulled back and slid his hand from Nathan's arm to his shoulder, then cupped Nathan's neck with it and rubbed his thumb over Nathan's lips. Nathan opened his mouth, and Sean slid the tip of his thumb inside.

"If the answer's yes," he murmured, "suck hard."

Nathan reached out with both hands, grabbed Sean's hips, and pulled him closer. He went to town on Sean's thumb, sucking it into his mouth, rubbing his tongue over it, stroking back and forth against the pad of his thumb and giving Sean everything he could. Sean knew just how to work this kink; Nathan was halfway there already, definitely wanting more.

"Tell the truth, now," Sean said, running his other hand down to Nathan's hip. "Is your ride on its way?" He moved his thumb back so Nathan could answer.

"Not that I'd give a shit if it was," Nathan said, half-out-of-breath, "but no."

Sean grinned at him. "Good. I hate being interrupted."

"Me, too." Nathan took a deep breath as Sean ran his hands up Nathan's chest, palms flattening over his nipples. Christ, his hands were _hot_ \-- a hell of a nice contrast to those doms whose hands never seemed to warm up.

Sean reached up a little further, snagging his fingers into Nathan's neckline. "Are you attached to this shirt?"

"Uh--" Nathan's eyes went wide, in-character. But Sean wasn't waiting; this part was already taken care of in negotiations, and Sean popped the neckline with a quick twist -- something not everybody could do, given how tough crewnecks were, but that was Sean; he'd _practiced_ that -- then dug both hands in and tore it clear down the middle. It took three hard pulls, and when he was done, Sean slid his hands from Nathan's waist to his collarbones, humming softly.

Nathan tilted his head back, nearly smacking it against brick, and closed his eyes. His hands fell to his sides. "Please, man, c'mon--"

"Sean," Sean corrected lightly, and he took Nathan's left nipple and tweaked it hard. Nathan came half-off the wall, growling under his breath until Sean let him go.

"Sean, _please_\--"

"Yeah?" Sean asked, looking up at Nathan's face. He reached up and grabbed Nathan by the hair, pinning him back against the wall again. This time the pinch was even harder, twisting Nathan's nipple as Nathan cried out and slammed both fists into the wall.

"_Fuck_, that's good," Nathan panted. "Please, Sean..."

"Other side now," Sean warned him, changing his grip on Nathan's hair and moving to his other nipple. He worked this one in stages, a little pressure, then a little easier; a little more, then slacking off some. The pain was gorgeous, enough to make Nathan squirm and gasp and try to lean forward. That grip on his hair didn't let him go anywhere.

He was breathing heavily and rocking forward by the time Sean was done, and when Sean put both hands on Nathan's hips to hold him steady, Nathan didn't move. He stayed pressed flat to the wall while Sean dipped his head down and started sucking on his nipple, biting lightly, licking in circles. Sean was taking it easy on him. It felt good, but it was light enough contact that Nathan could stay quiet, not letting out much sound besides his breathing. It was when Sean drew back, moved over, licked the other one and then gave it a hot breath before starting in that he started begging. This wasn't warm-up; this was a full-out tease. Sean's hands stayed put on Nathan's hips, which held Nathan down hard enough he could struggle, trying to shove himself forward and get _more_.

"Fuck, please, please, _more_, please, Sean, c'mon, you can do more, bite harder, just please, _please_, God, feels so fucking good," Nathan panted.

"Greedy little bitch, aren't you?" Sean murmured, lips close enough Nathan could feel them on his skin. Nathan could feel himself flushing, but it was dim enough in here Sean wasn't going to see it. He probably wouldn't feel it through those gloves, either, even though the gloves were moving again, up to his throat, down to his waist, thumbs rubbing his nipples in circles. Nathan groaned -- _leather_ \-- and twisted against Sean's hands, hoping he'd get held down for his trouble.

That wasn't Sean's plan, though. "Is this what you couldn't get tonight?" he asked. "Somebody who'd give it to you until you begged?" He grabbed Nathan's nipple and twisted again; Nathan yelped out a curse, head slamming back hard against the wall. That fucking _hurt_, but it'd be out of character to do more than curse a couple times and hope Sean thought he was still cursing about the way he was twisting his nipple. "C'mon yourself, bitch," Sean said, nearly growling it. "Beg for me."

"I -- fuck, Sean, yes, needed -- please -- whatever, just fuck me, please, please fuck me...!"

"You need it that bad, huh?" Sean asked. He pulled the shreds of Nathan's shirt apart and licked over Nathan's collarbone. Nathan shivered. "Need someone to fuck you into the wall like a greedy little slut?"

"Jesus," Nathan groaned. The combination of Sean's tongue and the smell of all that leather was killing him. "Yes -- please, Sean..."

Sean dug his teeth into Nathan's shoulder, and Nathan moaned again. The bite was deep, nice and deep, and he knew it would last. Nathan's moan moved low into his throat as Sean left a second, then a third, bruise on his shoulder. Sean got a nice tight grip on Nathan's hips and shoved, hard; there wasn't much room between Nathan and the wall, but Nathan hit with an impact anyway and curled forward against it.

"Sean--"

"_Slut_," Sean hissed, and God, Nathan could practically _feel_ the way Sean's tongue wrapped itself around the syllable. He didn't have time to analyze just how Sean made himself sound that way, though, because Sean was leaning up to kiss him again. Nathan kissed back, nice and hot, tongue moving against Sean's as Sean pressed his forward into Nathan's mouth.

"Yeah," Sean whispered, pulling away, "good sluts like you get what they deserve. Turn around."

Nathan turned, spreading his legs wider and putting his hands behind his back. Sean jerked his shirt down his arms and twisted the fabric up; he made a few more twists and looped the fabric around Nathan's wrists again. That was still a little too loose to sell this scene, so Nathan rotated one of his wrists, securing the twist -- arguably out of character, but it made the t-shirt a nice, secure bond, which made up for that in spades.

"Good boy," Sean murmured, running his hands up Nathan's back. Nathan groaned and arched into the touch. "Good slut. Hell, yeah... that's a good boy, c'mon, now." Sean's hands moved in front of Nathan, down the front of his chest, to his waist, one hand slipping into the front of his pants and reaching for his cock. Nathan's forehead hit the wall, and he grunted, but then Sean's hand was wrapped around his cock, leather dragging up the length of it, and it really didn't matter that he had the texture of that one stupid brick embedded in his forehead. He whimpered -- a nice soft sound that made it obvious just how turned on he was -- and Sean pulled his hand free so he could undo Nathan's fly and get his jeans down around his thighs. "Slut wants it bad, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," Nathan whispered, "yeah, fuck, want it so bad--"

"I can smell it on you," Sean whispered, pulling Nathan back a step. "I can taste it on you." He bit Nathan's shoulder again, and Nathan jerked under him. Christ, Sean's teeth were _sharp_. "And I want to feel your slut's ass around my cock. Hold still."

There were a few moments' rustling, and Sean grunted; Nathan could hear the frustration in that sound. The gloves were probably getting in the way, that or the jacket. A couple more seconds, and the scent of leather filled Nathan's senses as Sean pushed his gloves near Nathan's face. "Open your mouth," he said, and when Nathan complied, he pushed the gloves between Nathan's teeth. "Now hold those for me."

"Nngh--" Which meant _yes, sir_, or possibly _holy fuck, you're going to kill me_. Nathan dug his teeth in and waited while Sean finished with the condom. Once it was on him, he moved closer and pulled Nathan's hips back to angle him down, both of them moving instinctively into a familiar position. Sean pushed the head of his cock between Nathan's cheeks and paused, breath coming shallow, as he steadied himself. Nathan was just holding on, trying not to beg -- begging would mean losing his grip on those gloves.

Sean wasn't a mindreader, but he liked hearing begging as much as Nathan liked offering it, so Nathan wasn't surprised when Sean reached up and took his gloves back. The next time his hands went to Nathan's hips, they were in those gloves again, leather warm against Nathan's bare skin. Nathan groaned. "Please..."

"Tell me why I should do this," Sean whispered.

"Wha-- Jesus, because you _want_ to, you're so hard you could fuck through steel," Nathan babbled.

Sean gave him a friendly smack on the back of the head. "Uh-uh. You know what I'm looking for. Give."

Nathan groaned, but when he tried to move back, Sean's grip stopped him. "Fuck," Nathan whispered. "Because I'm a greedy -- greedy little slut--"

"Because you're a greedy fucking whore who needs it so bad he'll take it from a total stranger in an alley," Sean whispered. "Aren't you?"

Nathan moaned, trying to tilt his hips back. "Please..."

"C'mon." Sean's fingers dug in just a little. "C'mon, Nate. Tell me... 'I'm a greedy fucking--'"

"_I'm a greedy fucking whore who needs it so bad he'll beg a stranger to fuck him up the ass in an alleyway_," Nathan hissed, "Jesus, _please_, Sean, please, _please_ fuck me, please--"

"Good boy," Sean growled, shoving in all-at-once. Nathan let out a strangled moan and started panting, cock so hard he was probably leaking precome onto the concrete. "_Jesus_, Nate--"

"Oh, God -- oh, fuck -- please..."

"C'mon, good slut, good whore, that's a boy, c'mon," Sean whispered, starting up hard and fast. He wrapped an arm around Nathan's waist, pulling him back into every thrust. "Such an easy little slut, come on, move for me, slut, _move_\--"

Nathan clenched up hard, shoving back as best he could with his hands behind his back and his shoulder up against the wall for balance. Sean let him squirm for a while before he lost patience and started slamming into him again. "That's it," he growled. "That's it, boy. Take it. Stand there and take it for me."

There was nothing else Nathan _could_ do; he was trapped, he was getting used, he was hot all over and aching for more with every thrust, more pain, more of Sean's gloves on him, Jesus, just _more_. For a few seconds, he forgot about this being a scene and just let himself _feel_ it, groaning as Sean drove into him over and over, hands clenching into fists as Sean went at him harder with every stroke.

One of Sean's hands clutched at his hip, and the other landed on the nape of his neck. "You ready?" Sean growled.

"No--" Nathan blurted out. Sean frowned and moved his hand from Nathan's hip to his cock. Nathan gasped, and Sean gave him one long stroke.

"You ready _now_, slut?"

"Oh Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Sean--"

"Sir," Sean snapped, squeezing Nathan's cock hard.

"Sir," Nathan blurted, "sir, please, fuck, please, ready to come, just let me -- just say the word, sir, please, let me come for you, oh fuck, fuck, that feels so good--"

"Me first," Sean said, and he tightened his grip on Nathan's cock as he pounded in hard. Half a dozen strokes could have put him there, but Nathan was still struggling, and Nathan knew Sean well enough to know he'd take that as a challenge -- he'd want to make this tough on Nathan, he'd want to see Nathan struggle to hold back.

The thrusts turned relentless, rhythm pushing Nathan hard against the wall. He bit out groans every time Sean's hips slammed into his ass. He was past the point of begging now, just gasping for air and groaning hard, and then Sean was _there_, going over, teeth snapping together against empty air as his cock pulsed inside Nathan's body.

Nathan was almost shaking by the time he was done. Sean panted out a few breaths, sounding winded, but he managed to pull together enough breath to whisper, "Come on, bitch" -- which was all it took. Nathan came with a rough grunt, shoving his cock into Nathan's fingers, both his hands clenched into fists. He couldn't even sink forward against the wall when he was done; Sean still had that tight grip on his neck.

When Nathan could breathe again, though, Sean let him go, easing out of him and keeping one arm around his waist for support. "You okay?" he murmured.

"Uh-huh," Nathan said, rolling his shoulders back. "Wrists...?"

Sean helped him untwist the t-shirt, then yanked it off his arms. Nathan groaned and brought them forward, letting his arms take some of his weight against the wall. "Ready to go in?" Sean murmured.

"Not just yet." Nathan flattened his palms against the wall and stayed there for a minute, forehead to brick, catching his breath. Sean kept a hand on the small of his back, waiting it out. A few minutes was all it took, though, and after he'd gotten his breathing even again, Nathan stood up straight. Sean helped him over to the warehouse door, and they both grinned once they got it open and discovered a normal hotel room inside -- with a bed near enough by that Nathan could stumble to it and collapse without any trouble.

"I'm going to clean up real fast, get you a washcloth. Want some water before I go?" Sean asked.

"Is there water?"

Sean looked around and spotted the minibar. He nodded. "Right here." He snagged a bottle and opened it, then passed it to Nathan. Nathan caught him by the wrist before he could move away.

"Hang on a minute."

Sean glanced down at his hand, seeing what Nathan had already noticed. This was the glove Nathan had come all over, and with the scene over, he really didn't need to ask permission, but he looked up at Sean anyway. Sean nodded -- like he was going to say no to this? -- and Nathan bent his head down. Tiny little licks, slow at first, then faster, and Nathan licked up drop after drop of his come until Sean's glove was clean and spit-shined. Sean swallowed hard. "Christ, Nathan..."

"Just wanted to," Nathan murmured. He swallowed, too, trying not to think too hard about what he'd just done. Cleanup service without being asked wasn't exactly something he did very often. "Go on, clean up. I'm sticky, too."

"I'll be right back," Sean promised.

Nathan groaned and shoved out of his boots and jeans as Sean headed to the bathroom. He wasn't gone for very long, but it was still long enough for Nathan to down half his bottle of water and stretch out, propping himself up on one elbow to keep himself from getting so comfortable he'd be at dire risk of falling asleep. With anybody else, it wouldn't have been a problem; with Sean, he was always so at ease after a scene that he'd been known to fall asleep within seconds of getting horizontal. Luckily for him, Sean was one of those guys who liked spending the night and didn't get too offended when Nathan started snoring before he could wax poetic about how great the scene had been. Over-the-top compliments weren't Nathan's style, anyway. Come to think of it, staying the night wasn't Nathan's style, except with Sean.

His thoughts were interrupted as Sean came out of the bathroom with a warm washcloth, and Nathan swapped him the water bottle for it when Sean made it to the bed. Sean had stripped off already, so he was naked and clean and looked, all in all, pretty damned good standing next to the bed there. _He'd look better in it,_ Nathan decided, and after Sean took a drink, he joined Nathan, stretching out and groaning.

Nathan chuckled. "Did that scene take something out of you?" he asked.

"Only the obvious," Sean said. He sat up and pulled the covers back, and Nathan curled up with him, throwing an arm over his chest. The top of his head ended up against Sean's cheek, and he could feel Sean smiling. The smile disappeared after a second, though, and Nathan twisted so he could get a look at Sean's expression.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Sean said. "You don't mind spending the night?"

Nathan blinked at him. "No," he said carefully, "just like I didn't mind it the last fifty times we did it. You okay?"

"I'm fine. How about you?"

"I sure as hell don't feel old anymore," Nathan said, then winced. "I mean -- hell. Not that I was feeling old before, I just--"

"You're not old," Sean said, but he wasn't rolling his eyes the way Nathan might have expected him to. "Lie down and snore on me."

Something about all this felt odd -- like there were answers somewhere and Nathan just wasn't seeing them -- but he put it out of his thoughts, and within a few minutes, he was snoring away.


	2. Nice To Meet You; I Wasn't Expecting That

An email from an Establishment address was invariably good news. Most of the time it was just a top who found Nathan's name in the directory; sometimes -- this time among them -- it was one of the Est's official go-betweens. Resisting the urge to whistle "Matchmaker, Matchmaker", Nathan popped the email open.

> To: fillion@establishment.xxx  
> From: staff.gary@establishment.xxx  
> Subject: Looking for a few scenes for a novice dom
> 
> Hey, Nate, it's Gary.
> 
> There's this new kid at the club who -somebody- mentioned you might be interested in, and it turns out he's looking for somebody who fits your description: strong sub, good at talking, doesn't need to fight to go down, can deal with novice doms even if something falls out of whack. The guy's name is Routh. Files attached. Give me an email if this sounds like a good match.
> 
> Gary

It took Nathan about ten seconds to fire off a reply:

> To: staff.gary@establishment.xxx  
> From: fillion@establishment.xxx  
> Subject: Re: Looking for a few scenes for a novice dom
> 
> Gimme.
> 
> \--Nate
> 
> -show quoted text-

The phone rang about half an hour later with a number Nathan didn't recognize. He put his salsa-in-progress aside and slipped his headset over his ear, dropping his phone into his shirt pocket. "This is Fillion."

"Hi, Mr. Fillion, this is Brandon Routh. We belong to the same club in L.A...."

_Good opening_, Nathan thought. _Sounds confident. Also sounds like he practiced it in front of a mirror, but what the hell; we're all actors here._

"Hey there -- I was expecting your call, actually, so it's good to hear from you," Nathan said. "How are you doing today?"

"Pretty good, thanks, and yourself?"

"Just dandy. I was making salsa when you called, so forgive a few random chopping noises. I'll get it into the fridge as soon as I'm done."

"No rush, I'm not going anywhere."

"Patience is an _excellent_ quality in a dom. That gets you bonus points."

Brandon laughed. "Wow -- you _do_ know who I am. Sorry, I'm still getting used to this Establishment stuff..."

"Trust me, I've been there." Nathan finished with the cilantro and gave the bowl a stir. "So let's see. My setup guy tells me you're looking for a few scenes with a sub, someone you can talk to. Is that right?"

"Yes. Definitely." Nathan could practically hear Brandon taking a deep breath. "I've been doing classes, and I've had a few scenes with someone co-topping, but I'm better at learning by doing than by reading or watching, so I guess what I really want is to dive in, more or less. Only--"

"Hang on a minute." Nathan added a squeeze of lime, tasted the salsa, added another squeeze. "Okay, you've got some qualifiers in there. You 'guess' what you really want is to dive right in, or are you pretty damned sure? Because there are other options."

"I -- oh -- right, but -- no, yes. Yes, I'm sure." Brandon groaned and then laughed. "I'm sure _I_ want to dive right in, I'm just worried about anyone who gets stuck with me as I'm learning. It's like being a first-time pilot or a first-time surgeon -- I figure most people want to work with a dominant who has fifteen years' experience and a clean track record, you know, 'no subs were hurt in the building of this dom'."

Nathan waited for Brandon to finish, then nodded. "There's some truth to some of that -- a lot of subs out there are more comfortable with, forgive the pun, a more established dom. But some of us aren't built that way, which is why you're talking to me now." He put the cover on his bowl and tucked it into the fridge, balancing it precariously between a six-pack of hard cider and some cartons of leftover Chinese food. "There does come a point where you have to learn by doing, and to be honest, Brandon, having gotten a good look at you at the club...? It's not going to be a hardship in the least helping you get started."

"Oh, you've seen me," Brandon blurted out. "I didn't realize -- was this recently?"

"Last Wednesday. You were working with a sub and a middleman..."

"Wow. Well, I'm glad you liked what you saw."

"I did. Now -- and I hope you'll forgive me for taking charge here--"

"Well, right now we're just talking, does someone have to be 'in charge' of a phone call?" Brandon broke in.

Nathan caught himself and chuckled. "Good point. No, nobody has to be in charge of a phone call, but I'm about to make a strong suggestion, and I don't want to start us off on the wrong foot."

"Let me just say, Mr. Fillion--"

"Nathan. Please."

"--Nathan. If it's a good suggestion, getting bent out of shape over whose suggestion it was is silly, and if it's a bad one, I'll call you on it. How does that sound?"

It sounded like Brandon had a good head on his shoulders. This was getting better and better. "Sounds fair to me. My suggestion is we meet, over coffee, and talk some. Get to know each other, trade kink philosophies, maybe fool around a little to see if that's going to work for us. Does that sound good?"

"It sounds great to me. When's a good time for you?"

Nathan glanced at the clock on the microwave. "I'm free now, and I've got all night. How about you?"

"I can be at the club in half an hour, and I don't have any plans for the night, either."

"Great. Meet you at the coffee bar in half an hour."

"Looking forward to it. Goodbye, Nathan."

"Bye, Brandon."

Brandon put the phone down, ran both hands through his hair, and exhaled sharply. It wasn't as if he'd thought nobody was watching him at the club -- half the reason to play in public was to be watched -- but having that confirmed made this all seem much more real somehow.

_Okay. Relax. You're doing all right so far, and he's got no objections to working with you._

The trick now was not to get neurotic. No changing clothes a dozen times before leaving the house, no standing in front of the mirror practicing his 'kink philosophy' (_I have to have a philosophy?_ he thought, and then quickly shelved the thought for later). No leafing through _The New Topping Book_ for the hundredth time; this wasn't an exam, and there was no point in cramming for it. Better to be honest about what he did and didn't know than to make something up.

Half an hour passed more quickly than Brandon expected, half of it spent in traffic. He was early to the coffee bar, and had been there about five minutes when Nathan walked up.

"Brandon? Hi," Nathan said, offering a hand. Brandon grinned at him and slid off his bar stool, taking Nathan's hand.

"Nathan -- glad to see you." The handshake was a good one, firm, neither one of them trying to crush the other. "No trouble with traffic?" Brandon asked.

"Not a bit. I'm not late, am I?"

"You're right on time." Brandon nodded toward the booths in the back. "Should we take a seat out of the way?"

"Sounds great." Nathan glanced at the bar. "You're not drinking anything yet -- can I get you something?"

"Sure -- an orange juice, please? Let me get a table while you wait on drinks."

"Perfect. See you in a minute."

Brandon picked out a booth and sat down, watching Nathan making idle chatter with the barrista. He was sure attractive enough; tall, if not as tall as Brandon, medium build, sandy-brown hair, square jaw. Great smile, seemed nice and friendly, very open. He had Brandon's orange juice now, and some kind of coffee drink for himself, and he carried both back to the booth and sat down.

"So," Nathan said. "Where would you like to start?"

Brandon cleared his throat. "Let's see... I'm 26. New to kink. A friend of mine recommended the Establishment as a place to learn and play and be safe, and I've been taking classes and reading about kink since I joined. I like bondage, I've got a handle on the basics of using a flogger, and what little I've done of giving orders has felt fantastic. But that's about it so far." He took a quick swallow of his juice. "How about you?"

"Me," Nathan said, tapping his fingers on his cup. "I'm 35; I've been subbing for about ten years now. I've never had a formal contract. I'm a real fan of communication from both sides, and my limits are pretty flexible. I'm not crazy about gangbang-type scenes, and I have almost no experience with valet-type service, but beyond that, I'm open to suggestion."

"That sounds good. All of that sounds good. You don't mind if I ask you some questions, get a little more detail on some of the things you mentioned?" Brandon asked.

"Not a bit. Ask anything you'd like." Nathan grinned.

"You've never had a formal contract -- how do you define formal?"

Nathan's estimation of Brandon moved up a notch. Not _why not_, but _what's formal to you_ \-- a more important question, really, and one that could be answered much more easily. "To me a formal contract is an arrangement with a dom -- or, I guess, multiple doms, I've seen that done -- that binds me to that person specifically for his or her use for a predetermined length of time. In a formal contract situation, I'd expect to be living with them or 'on call' 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and subject to orders unless time out of role has been specifically negotiated or declared by the top."

"Would you be all right with dealing with me exclusively for a few weeks while we're working together, not under any sort of formal arrangement, but..." Brandon made a back-and-forth gesture between the two of them. "More than anything, to keep whatever connection -- whatever rapport we've got -- clear and focused?"

"I'd be willing, yeah." _Back a step, cowboy_, Nathan told himself sternly. "Assuming that's where we're headed, assuming you're still after that by the time we finish talking today."

"So far I can't see any reason why I wouldn't be." Brandon slid his glass back and forth between his hands, careful not to spill anything. "Have you worked with any doms my age before?"

"Mm-hm. Both when I was your age and more recently."

"So my age isn't going to bother you."

Nathan shook his head. "No."

"Have you worked with inexperienced doms before?"

"Oh, yes." Nathan's grin went crooked; Brandon wasn't sure how to take the answer or the expression. "Both in safe environments like the Est and in totally unstructured ones like winging it at a friend's place."

"What do you like about it?"

Nathan gave that one a few moments' thought before answering. "I like helping people start off on the right foot. I'm comfortable with communication in a way a lot of subs aren't, and working with novice doms turns that into a valuable skill instead of just annoying people and making them think I want to top from the bottom. And," he said, tilting his chin down and grinning at Brandon, "that look someone gets when they hit a kink for the first time and everything just clicks? That's one hell of a rush for me."

"It doesn't feel half bad from the other side, either," Brandon said, grinning back. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"Definitely. How did you figure out you were kinky?"

"Ahh..." Brandon took another drink. "I was seeing someone who was, let me say, adventurous in bed. He liked wrestling, and he pretty much always lost, and so one day I was -- I'd pinned him kinda flat, and I realized I was -- sort of getting off on that for its own sake. That it just felt really good having somebody pinned down and, you know, struggling, seriously struggling -- but with the knowledge that it was okay for me to keep him pinned like that. Do you know what I mean?" After Nathan nodded, Brandon went on. "And from there we played with some bondage, and some roleplay, and after we split up I was talking to this friend of mine -- and she mentioned a few books and the Establishment. And here I am."

Nathan took all that in and nodded again. "How do you like it here?

"It's amazing," Brandon said immediately. "The people are friendly, and they know what they're doing, and I've learned so much already -- it's been great."

"Have you run into anything you didn't like?"

Brandon sat back to think that one over. "Nothing yet," he said at last. "I worry about watching a public scene go wrong. Not half as much as I worry about having a scene of mine go wrong, but I think it would make me uncomfortable watching other people have a scene fall apart."

_Aw, he's the sensitive type,_ Nathan thought. He knew better than to let that color his judgment of Brandon's abilities as a top, but it was something to be aware of. "How do you think you'd react if you did end up seeing a scene go wrong?"

"Depends on how it's going wrong. Alert a floor supervisor, for sure, but if there's something life-threatening going on and they need somebody to step in and help, I'd like to think I could do that. Like if someone needed CPR; I'm certified for that, and I don't know how many tops are, but that's something I could help with. The harder part would be if it's not exactly -- if it's not a medical problem, if it's a scene problem, and _not_ stepping in myself to do something. I sort of have rescuer instincts."

"A lot of tops do," Nathan pointed out. "Your instincts sound pretty good to me, and it's easier to clamp down on the urge to push your way into a scene that's going wrong if you know in advance that it might not be the right move." He grinned. "So tell me about something you _have_ liked."

"Oh. God. That's a much harder question..."

"Just one thing."

"That's why it's a harder question. Just one thing out of everything I've done so far..."

"Mmhm." Nathan sat back, one eyebrow raised.

Brandon blew out a breath and nodded. "Okay. Something I liked. There was this night, I was on my own with a submissive here at the club, and it was nothing complicated -- we had our own room, I tied him down, rope bondage, it was my first time using ropes instead of cuffs, and I got -- I got rough, _very_ rough with him," and now Brandon was making an obvious effort to keep looking at Nathan instead of breaking eye contact and staring into his juice, "enough that he was, ah, making a lot of noise, and we'd -- well, talked about gagging, so he had -- blank keys, so I could -- eventually I ended up putting my hand over his mouth and fucking him while he, ah, he screamed until he went hoarse."

Nathan blinked a few times and shifted his position on his seat. "That sounds good," he said, voice pitched a few steps higher than normal and breaking with the word _good_. He cleared his throat. "That sounds good," he tried again. "How were the two of you afterwards? Is this someone you're seeing again?"

"Oh, ah -- he's not, no, but I mean, it's not that it wasn't a good scene, I'm just looking for someone more regular to play with, and he says he mostly just does one-offs. But, I mean, in terms of -- afterwards, talking, we did -- he was happy with the way it went. He said I was reading him really well, especially for someone who hasn't been at this for very long, and that was really nice to hear. And he was -- he was just great, it was really obvious from his body language that I wasn't going too fast or being too rough."

"That makes sense." It did make a lot of sense to Nathan; clear communication through body language was one of those things that made scenes easier on everyone, especially novice doms. "Is there any one thing in particular you're hoping for when it comes to your next scene partner? Because everything I've heard today is making me think we'd do just fine together."

"One thing," Brandon repeated. "Just patience and willingness to talk. And I think you're right; I think we'd do fine together."

"I'm game." Nathan grinned. "When do you want to start?"

Brandon slid his tongue over his lower lip, and Nathan caught himself squirming. "Want to do something tonight?" Brandon asked.

"Yes." There it was, out in the open. Just that easy. Yes. "What sort of scene are you looking for?"

"Something quiet. Not public. Just the two of us. Kind of a getting-to-know-you scene."

"That sounds good to me. What do you want me to know about you?"

The question seemed to get Brandon's attention, and he gave it a few seconds' thought. "You know what, my first impulse is to say I just want to prove to you I can do this. That I'm not too young or too inexperienced or too shy. But I'm not trying to prove it to you, really; I need to prove it to myself."

"That's all right," Nathan said softly. "Needing to prove something to yourself -- we all go through that kind of feeling. Why's it just your first instinct?" _What's wrong with it?_ was the question he really wanted to ask, but framing it without the negativity was usually the better option.

"Because it'd be a bad place to have my focus if the scene's going to be any good for you." Brandon exhaled slowly. "Okay. What I'd like to show you about me? Let's say I want to show you that I'm strong, physically strong, and that I can put that strength to reasonably good use. And I want to show you that I can focus on you, and pay attention to what you're signaling. What you need. What you want." Brandon's eyebrows twitched upwards. "Does that sound good?"

"It sounds great. That bit about physical strength -- you're going to be popular as hell around here with the subs, a lot of us love that." Nathan chuckled.

"And... what about you?" Brandon asked. He waved off Nathan's immediate response, interrupting. "Not the strength thing -- I mean what do you want me to know about you?"

"Well, in-scene, I just want you to get to know the type of submissive you're dealing with. I don't scare easy, I won't surprise you, I'm not a diva."

"You don't look like one."

Nathan could practically see Brandon's tongue planted in his cheek with that. "Thank you. Anyway -- after the fact, and I don't mean right after, I'm talking about a day or two later when we can really sit down and talk -- I'll have feedback for you. How you did. What I liked. What I didn't. How it all came together. If you have critique for me, I'll listen to that, too -- separately." Nathan gave Brandon a nice, even look. "I'm not kidding about the feedback. This is why they gave you my number."

"I know. It's all right -- I want the feedback. I want to be good at this."

"You're gonna be." Nathan grinned. "I can promise you that."

"Yeah. I'm still nervous right now." Brandon took a deep breath. "There's a bunch of scene-specific questions I need to ask..."

"Shoot."

"Medical problems?"

"None."

"Hard limits?"

"Nothing you'll run into in a scene like this. Don't break anything -- skin or bones -- and we'll do great. And safe play is a given."

"Of course. Do you have a safeword we can use?"

Never one of Nathan's favorite questions, but with a brand-new top he wasn't going to argue the point. They could always get into that later. "Serenity."

Brandon grinned. "Cute. Uh, let's see -- do you want to set up any extra security? A safeguard check with the front desk?"

"No, I'm clear, but it's a good question, and if we were off club property I'd want to set up a check-in phone call." Nathan rolled his eyes at himself. "I really _should_ say yes, accidents happen, but my risk quotient's high enough to ignore that one."

"Okay -- I'm trusting your judgment there. But you wouldn't offend me or upset me if you wanted one." Brandon tapped his fingertips on the table. "Anything you need on hand for afterwards?"

"A shitload of water and a blanket. I get cold after I come down from a scene."

"I'll make sure we have both. Oh... and names. Do you have preferences in that area?"

"Not this early. But I'll go with pretty much anything you like -- whatever helps you get into role."

Brandon shook his head. "No names this time. Maybe later on, if they feel right."

"Sounds good. Is it time to get a room?"

"Oh, yes." Brandon smiled -- slowly, Cheshire-cat style. It was one of those smiles that showed off teeth, and Nathan noticed they looked _sharp_. He shivered.

This was going to be fun.

~*~

The ringing sound woke Nathan up. "Nngh," he said, vaguely at the phone, and pulled his pillow over his head.

The ringing stopped briefly, then started right back up again.

Nathan cursed and groped across the nightstand for it, finding it by feel and drawing it under his pillow. He thumbed the 'call' button and stuck the phone to his ear. "Yeah?" His voice sounded muffled even to him. He ditched the extra pillow.

"Don't tell me you're not out of bed yet." That was Sean. He sounded more amused than pissed off -- Nathan hoped. "Nate, it's noon."

"It is? Fuck," Nathan said, sitting up. "I was out late last night."

"I gathered. Hot scene?"

"Something like that. Look, I'm sorry -- did I bomb plans for this morning?" He couldn't remember, which was even worse than just missing breakfast or brunch plans outright.

"No, I just thought we could go out for a burrito or something. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine. You just woke me up," Nathan said, yawning through the last few words. "I could go for food. Want to give me half an hour or so?"

"Or I could just come over on the bike," Sean offered. "It's nice out; we could take the bike to lunch."

"Sure. Sounds good."

"Great. See you soon."

Nathan hung up and groaned. Time to get up. Take a shower. Get dressed. Sean was all of 20 minutes away, less if he ignored the speed limit. Just a matter of convincing his body up and out of bed.

It took ten minutes to get from the bed to the bathroom. He was in the shower within five more. The hot water helped a lot in terms of waking up, and it felt good against sore muscles, too. He took stock: arms aching, back sore, ass sore, thighs feeling stretched. Hell, even his chest felt sore, and all that was just from wrestling. He'd given it his all, that was for damned sure.

He was rubbing at his upper arm when he heard a hollow knock, presumably against the open bathroom door. "Sean?"

"Me," Sean called back. Nathan blinked the water out of his eyes so he could spot Sean and wave. Sean's grin was fuzzy through the glass, but familiar enough Nathan could grin right back.

"Give me a second, I'm almost done."

"Unless you'd like company--"

"Nah, I'll be done before you can get everything off. Besides, you make damn good eye candy like that." Head-to-toe leather, jacket, gloves, pants, boots. He looked good enough to jump. _Which I can't do. Shit._

Sean stayed out of the shower, though he did grab a towel for Nathan when he was done. He handed it over the top of the shower door, and Nathan dried off, wincing as he stretched his arms to reach various body parts; everything was going to ache for a while.

"You all right?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just a little sore all over."

"Huh." Nathan could guess Sean's thought process here: no big marks, no red patches, so nothing like a full-body strapping... "One of those dimwit tops who looks at you and thinks 'this one needs fighting down'?"

"No, thank God, nothing like that." Nathan grinned as he toweled his hair off. He stepped out of the shower and headed to the sink. "More like freeform wrestling."

"Ah. Any good?"

Nathan glanced into the mirror at Sean, trying to read that expression and that tone of voice, but he got nowhere with it, so he shrugged and reached for his hairbrush. "Yeah, actually. You remember the kid I was ogling a few days back? Brandon?"

"Finally got him, huh?"

"Actually, he called me." Nathan finished getting his hair into some sort of recognizable order and moved on to shaving. "It turns out he was looking for someone to scene with on a regular basis as he's learning, so last night was kind of a test run."

"Looks like a pretty good test run." Sean came forward and traced a finger over Nathan's upper arm; Nathan glanced down and grinned. He had a few faint bruises there after all; probably from Brandon grabbing him by the arm and shoving him into the wall. "Things went well?"

"Very well. Hang on a minute." Nathan shrugged Sean off -- gently -- and finished shaving. He was also stalling. They'd both had relationships that didn't allow for playing with others, but the timing on this one was quick. Very quick. Nathan could already imagine Sean's objections.

Once the leftover bits of shaving cream were rinsed away, Nathan splashed on a little aftershave and turned around. "Okay, so I do have news..."

"You're taking him up on that 'regular basis' thing, and it means you're off the market?" Sean guessed.

Nathan winced and scratched at the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"How long?"

"Six weeks."

Sean frowned, but the frown only lasted half a second before he was shrugging. If Nathan had blinked, he'd have missed it. "Well, hey. If that's what you want to do, that's great. It's been a while since you did anything one-on-one."

"He's a good kid. Six weeks'll do more for him than six months of classes and double-teams--"

"Stop it." Sean shook his head. "You don't have to justify it, all right?"

"I wasn't." _Yes, I was._ Nathan rolled his eyes. "I need clothes. C'mon."

He pushed past Sean and headed into the bedroom. Jeans were on the floor, wallet and keys still in them; t-shirt and short-sleeved button-down were in the dresser. Sean wasn't saying anything, and Nathan didn't know where to start. The vibe was _weird_ this morning; he was justifying taking on a scene partner for a short-term sort of agreement, Sean was frowning and trying not to. "Listen, I can talk to him about you. I mean, it's not like you and I have anything developing that'd fuck around with what I'm doing with Brand; we've been scening together for years now."

"Don't do that." Sean glanced around Nathan's bedroom and waited while Nathan made the bed and grabbed the water glass from the nightstand; he followed Nathan downstairs to the kitchen, where the glass went into the dishwasher and Nathan leaned up against the counter. "The last thing a new top needs when he's first getting started is dealing with complications. I mean, it's one thing if you were open in the first place, but if he asked for six weeks of exclusive contact--" Sean stopped short and frowned again; this time he didn't get it off his face at all. "He asked for that, right? You didn't bring it up?"

"Yeah, it was his idea."

The frown eased up a little. "Well, yeah. You really don't want to mess with that. He's probably just looking to make sure the lines of communication are clear--"

"C'mon, he's playing with me. What else are they going to be?"

"--and he's probably trying to make sure he doesn't have to deal with working around someone else's bruises or aches and pains he doesn't know about."

"Yeah, I figured as much. He talked a little bit about keeping the dynamic clean; I get the impression he's basically a one-on-one sort of guy."

"Easy enough to find. Lots of subs are looking for that."

"Hey, back off, all right?" Nathan snapped. "It's six weeks, and like I said, _I_ didn't bring it--"

"What do you mean, 'back off'? What the hell are we arguing over? We've _done_ this before."

Nathan stopped, mouth open, and snapped it shut, shoving a hand through his hair. "Jesus, I really _didn't_ get enough sleep. I'm sorry. You want the truth, I feel bad about not being able to tell you about this sooner. I'd've liked getting jumped in the shower this morning." He grinned.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I'm hurting for scenes, you know?" Sean pointed out. He turned to the kitchen table to pick up his helmet, which meant he missed Nathan's own momentary frown. "C'mon. Burritos await."

On the back of Sean's bike, arms wrapped around his waist, pressed chest-to-thighs against Sean in leather, Nathan was sorry all over again that he'd agreed to six weeks of exclusive contact. He rolled his eyes at himself. _Grass is always greener_, he thought, tightening his grip on Sean. He'd forget all about this next time he stepped into the club.


	3. Try This; That Was Pretty Good

This time it was a little more involved than wrestling. Nathan knew that -- they'd talked about the scene beforehand -- but walking into the room and seeing how it was set up really brought that home. There was a spanking bench set out, the sort of thing he'd straddle and then lie down on, and it had cuffs set up for wrists and ankles. Nathan exhaled hard and started stripping.

This was on the menu -- it was definitely on the menu, and there was nothing particularly hardcore about being cuffed down on a spanking bench -- but it was a nice big push from simple wrestling. Lots of people wrestled; this was a sign that Brandon was looking for a hell of a lot more than that.

Nathan was glad the room was warm enough to be comfortable even out of his clothes; climbing onto cold leather was never anywhere near as fun as climbing onto leather that was warm and only going to get warmer. He was tempted to bend his head down and give the leather a few licks -- man, the bench smelled _good_ \-- but instead he put his ankles and wrists in position to be cuffed and waited. This particular bench was moved up higher than most of the ones Nathan had been on; it was one more reminder that Brandon was a big guy, which wasn't a bad thought to be having at all right now. _He's what, 6'3"? 6'4"? All that muscle. Hell, yeah._

He didn't have to wait long; before five minutes had gone by, there was a quick tap at the door and Brandon walked in. Nathan looked up and over his shoulder as he heard the door swing open; Brandon grinned at him, gave him a small wave. Nathan smiled back and nodded. Brandon was mostly in denim, black jacket, black jeans, white t-shirt. He tossed the jacket over the chair holding Nathan's clothes and walked over to Nathan, sliding a hand from Nathan's waist to his shoulder. "Hi there," he said. "How are you doing today?"

"Pretty good so far. Glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you, too. Tell me what you've been up to the last couple days." Brandon's hand kept moving up, slid through Nathan's hair.

Nathan made a mental note to compliment Brandon on that later -- _a guy like me who kinda has that butchy masculine thing going on doesn't always get that sort of gentle, petting contact, and I do like it -- you picked up on that real fast, that's good_ \-- and licked his lips before he answered. "Let's see. I've been taking it easy the last few days. Looking forward to tonight. I saw Sean on Wednesday, totally platonic--" _stupid, c'mon, he'd know that, we're exclusive right now_\-- "we rented a movie and hung out for a while. I think my bruises from last Saturday are all healed up."

"You're right." Brandon's hand slid down Nathan's arm, and he started circling, moving around Nathan to check his other arm, his back, his ass, his legs. "You look great."

_I started working out again_, Nathan thought, but it wasn't something he was going to say out loud -- he'd be just as happy if Brandon thought he went to the gym on a regular basis all the time instead of just when he had a scening partner. "Thank you," he murmured instead.

"All right. Let's get started." Brandon slid his hand up Nathan's back and rested it on the back of his neck. "Would you be comfortable calling me 'sir' this time around?"

"Yes, sir." Another one of those big steps forward; asking for titles during a second scene was a nice indication that Brandon had more confidence under his belt just waiting to be brought out. _Well, confidence and one hell of a nice big cock,_ Nathan thought, suppressing the urge to grin.

"Good. Then that's what I'd like to hear from you. We've talked about using 'boy' for you. Are you comfortable hearing that from me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy." Brandon gave the back of Nathan's neck a squeeze, and Nathan shivered hard. His cock was getting hard now, and he shifted a little on the bench. Brandon's hand eased off some. "You can go ahead and get comfortable, boy. We're going to be working with you in this position for a while today."

Nathan gave an approving little groan as he shifted his hips and got his cock tucked nice and tight under his belly. He rocked just the slightest bit from side to side to make sure his balance was all right and he wouldn't go sliding to one side or the other, then put his head down and exhaled. "I'm comfortable like this, sir," he said.

"Good." Brandon picked up the first cuff, the one for Nathan's right wrist. "If you get uncomfortable in any way, I want you to let me know."

"Of course, sir."

Brandon went around Nathan's body, getting the cuffs fitted. They all had roller buckles and lots of room to get them tighter or looser, which meant they could be tricky to fit right. "How's that?" Brandon asked after the first one, letting Nathan move his wrist.

"It's great -- thank you, sir, and thanks for asking, sir." Nathan grinned. Brandon grinned back and went to work on the rest of the cuffs, checking in for each of them; the ankle cuffs needed a little more adjustment, but soon enough all four were on him, and Brandon clipped the cuffs to the spanking bench one-by-one, giving Nathan a slow, lazy stroke from the nape of his neck to the curve of his ass as he looked everything over. _Sweet. He's doing a great job._

Nathan's appreciation for Brandon's care wasn't just intellectual, though, and Nathan didn't plan on pretending it was. He was breathing a little more heavily by the time Brandon was done securing him, and he groaned when Brandon took up position behind him, denim-clad thighs pressed up against Nathan's bare ones. Brandon slid his hands up Nathan's back and grabbed him by the shoulders, dragging him back. He didn't move far, but that wasn't the point. The point was getting Nathan _trapped_, caught between Brandon's hands and his thighs. Nathan took a deep breath to keep from panting. "Fuck, that's good, sir," he whispered.

"Glad to hear it, boy." Nathan could just about hear Brandon grinning. One of Brandon's hands left Nathan's shoulder, gliding down his side again. That pressure from Brandon's thighs eased off as Brandon stepped to the side, and Nathan could guess what was coming. He jerked just the slightest bit as Brandon landed a medium-light slap on his ass. "We're going to start with that tonight. My hands."

"Yes, sir!" Nathan was tempted to wiggle his ass, but he took a deep breath and reminded himself to calm the hell down. He nodded, though. "Please, sir."

"No counting." Brandon took a deep breath himself, letting it out slowly. He pressed back up against Nathan's thighs, hands kneading Nathan's shoulders lightly. Nathan groaned; _man_, that felt good. "And I'm trusting you to tell me if you need me to slow down, if you need a break."

Nathan was glad Brandon couldn't see him rolling his eyes. Not a polite thing to do during an early scene, and it was way better for Brandon to be overly cautious about something than to have him just go for it and worry about Nathan needing a break when it was too late. Still, the half-incredulous thought went through his brain just the same: _you really think I'm going to need a break from a bare-handed spanking? Do I look like my pain tolerance is that low?_

"Yes, sir," he said, pushing that need to prove himself aside. This scene was much more for Brandon than it was for him, and starting with a bare-handed spanking was a great idea. He might as well go all the way with it, he thought, and asked, "Do you want me to have a slow word, sir?"

"'Yellow', if it'll work for you."

"'Yellow' should be fine, sir."

"Good." Brandon stepped back, then, breaking body-to-body contact and getting started with the spanking.

The first dozen or so blows were all as light as the first. Barely enough Nathan could feel them, much more tease than pain. He couldn't tell whether that was intentional, just how hard Brandon wanted to hit him, or if Brandon was being overly cautious, but either way, it didn't take long before he started rocking his hips backward, trying to get more impact. Brandon paused and stroked a hand up Nathan's back, stroking his hair again, tickling the nape of his neck. Nathan arched up hard at that, jerking at his cuffs. "Oh, _fuck_, sir--"

"Good?" Brandon asked. Nathan was already tilting his head down in hopes of getting that touch again, and when Brandon repeated it, Nathan shivered hard. Brandon chuckled. "Good," he decided. "How's your ass feeling, boy?"

"Good, sir," Nathan said. He tilted his head a little so he could see Brandon beside him. "Can I beg you to do it harder, sir?"

Brandon's eyebrows went up, and he nodded. "Yeah," he said, scratching at the back of Nathan's neck one more time. Nathan flattened onto the bench and tried not to purr. "Go ahead and beg for harder, and keep begging until you don't _want_ it harder."

"Yes, sir!"

Brandon got down to business again, and this time he put his arm into it. The spanks went from medium-light to medium-heavy with almost no ramp-up, but Nathan didn't need it. He was already warmed up; now he was just hoping for the payoff. He clenched his hands and rested his cheek on the bench, closing his eyes. "_Yes_ \-- fuck, yes, sir, please, harder, God, yes, harder, please, sir--"

Brandon didn't hesitate. _Strong kid, big hands, hell, yes--_ Nathan actually yelped when one particularly hard blow landed across his ass, but it didn't keep him from pushing back into the next one. He stopped begging for more when every smack threatened to jerk a sound out of him, and Brandon kept that level of impact going through five -- ten -- a dozen more blows, and Nathan lost count, gasping through all of them.

By the time Brandon slowed, and eventually stopped, Nathan's skin was burning. He was sweating, too, although not very much; he could feel it on his upper back, though, and he jerked forward when Brandon came up behind him, denim rubbing hard against Nathan's ass, and bent down to lick the space between Nathan's shoulderblades. Nathan could feel Brandon's cock through his jeans; he groaned, hands flexing, head tilting up. "Need," he panted. "Please."

"_I_ need to hear more of that," Brandon murmured, standing upright again and putting his hands on Nathan's hips. "Beg for it."

"Ha -- oh, God -- please, sir -- _please_. Please, let me have it -- your cock -- please fuck me, sir!" He'd more than earned the words, Nathan knew. He couldn't turn off the tendency to observe, but this sure as hell wasn't a lesson anymore. Brandon was his dom and he wanted to hear Nathan _begging_.

"More," Brandon said. His hands came off Nathan's hips as Nathan gave it to him -- more _please_ and _sir_ and _God, please fuck me_ \-- and he stepped back after a few seconds of it. Nathan groaned when he got contact back; it was two of Brandon's fingers, coated with lube that was already nice and warmed up -- probably a packet stashed in Brandon's pocket -- and from the feel of it, Brandon had a glove on. Nothing wrong with that. At the moment, all Nathan wanted was to be opened up and fucked as fast as possible.

Fast wasn't what he was getting, though. He groaned, low and from the gut, as Brandon's fingers started up a hard, quick rhythm. "Keep talking," Brandon said, twisting his fingers. "Convince me."

"Fuck -- please, sir, fucking dying for it--"

Brandon gave his ass another hard smack, and Nathan clenched tight around Brandon's fingers. "Are you really?" Brandon whispered.

"Jesus, _yes_, sir, God, please, _please_, fuck me, please, sir--"

Brandon worked another finger into Nathan's ass, and Nathan shoved back as much as he could. He could feel his dick leaving wet smears between the bench and his stomach, and he gasped, trying to push back and get _more_.

"I'm going to have you," Brandon said. He wasn't panting, but he was starting to sound like all this was affecting him as much as it was affecting Nathan, which was good -- it meant there was a much higher chance Nathan was going to get what he wanted instead of having to wait for Brandon to tease him half to death. _Thank fucking God._ "I'm going to hold you open and take you and I want you thanking me for every last fucking inch you get. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir, hell, yes, thank you, sir--"

Brandon's fingers withdrew, and Nathan bit his lower lip, trying to hold in the urge to whimper. There were a couple of snapping latex sounds -- glove going off, condom going on -- and then Nathan gasped as Brandon slid his thumbs into Nathan's crack and held him open. It burned, enough to make Nathan's body want to clench up from the pain of having tight, reddened skin squeezed that hard, but he gritted his teeth and held on. "Hurts, Christ, hurt me, sir, please hurt me, please fuck me, oh _God_\--"

"Good boy," Brandon gasped, and he pushed in, fast and rough, halfway home with the first thrust. Nathan's head came up, and he growled something incoherent, trying to move back. Brandon's grip was too tight for that; he was trapped. "Come on," Brandon said. "Come on, boy--"

"--thank you," Nathan panted, "thank you, _thank you_, sir, oh God, please, more, please," and he tightened up as much as he could, gratified by the groan Brandon gave him as a result. Brandon's hands moved to Nathan's hips, and he shoved forward again, another couple of inches buried in Nathan's ass. "_Thank you_," Nathan blurted out, "thank you, fuck, thank you, sir, please, fuck, please, more--"

"Oh, good boy," Brandon moaned, and with one last hard push he was all the way in, denim scratching Nathan's ass as Brandon's thighs pressed up tight against him. Nathan was pretty sure he was screaming, or if not screaming, yelling pretty damned loud, and with any luck there were words somewhere in that yell, because he wasn't going to get a hell of a lot more coherent after this. "Good boy," Brandon said again, and he drew back and pushed in _hard_ again.

There were no ground rules about coming. Nathan held it back, partly because he wanted to offer that kind of obedience to Brandon -- he sure as hell deserved it -- and partly because the last thing he wanted was for this to end that soon. He wasn't sure it would have mattered; from the way Brandon was fucking him, it seemeed like not even a goddamned earthquake would have stopped him. And _damn_, that felt good -- the kid was ruthless. He was rough through stroke after stroke, fucking Nathan like he was never going to ease up. Nathan was right there with him, struggling to push back harder and give _more_. He panted and groaned and tugged against his cuffs, and it was like shoving against a brick wall. Brandon was taking him just the way he wanted to, and none of Nathan's motions made a bit of difference.

Nathan felt the grip in his hair an instant before Brandon jerked his head up. Nathan grunted, and Brandon came to a sudden stop. "You close, boy?" he asked.

"Fuck, yes, sir, close--"

"All right." Brandon eased back, slow, making Nathan groan loud and long from the tease of having it drawn out that way. "You hang on until you can't, and then you let me hear it." He let Nathan's head go, but he was easy about it, not just dropping him or letting his head slam back into the bench. "You let me hear it, boy, you understand?"

"Yes," Nathan moaned, "yes, sir, yes, oh God--"

"Good boy." And he shoved in hard, so hard Nathan couldn't hold back the sounds if he tried. Brandon bent forward, one hand on Nathan's shoulder, the other on his hip, bracing himself so he could go in with all the force his body could bring to bear. _Let me hear it._ Brandon was going to go deaf by the end of this; Nathan was going to lose his voice. And Jesus Christ, it was worth every second.

Nathan held back as long as he could, but he felt his balls tightening and knew he'd been pushed to the limit on this one. He put his forehead on the bench, clenched his fists together, and came with hoarse shouts that ripped at his throat and left him almost dizzy; Brandon's fingers tightened and he came, too, growling through clenched teeth, the sound sending a shudder up Nathan's spine. _Goddamn,_ he thought, panting against the bench. _Oh, goddamn, that was great._

Brandon was half-collapsed on him, and he wasn't a lightweight, but Nathan figured he could stay like this a while. No need to complain; he might be trapped, but it was the right kind of trapped, sweating and hurting and satisfied. Eventually, Brandon did manage to move, reaching out to get Nathan's hands uncuffed, then pulling back -- making Nathan moan from losing contact and his cock in rapid succession -- and getting Nathan's ankles undone. He rubbed a hand up Nathan's back, caressing the spot between his shoulderblades and melting Nathan into the bench even more. Nathan managed an appreciative groan, but that was it. Brandon chuckled. "You were great," he said softly. "Really great. Can you move yet?"

"Nnnh." Not even enough to shake his head to go along with that negatory grunt.

"Okay." Brandon kept the contact up and rubbed a little harder; Nathan groaned again and felt his body losing all the rest of its leftover tension. After a few minutes, though, he shivered -- it was starting to feel cold in here. Brandon picked up on the shiver and squeezed Nathan's shoulder. "Okay, _now_ let's move. Bed's not far away. I'll get you there."

Nathan's grunt implied a certain reluctance to move, even shivering like this, but Brandon insisted, and Nathan found himself being supported and moved off to bed, covers flung aside so he could get under them. How many arms did Brandon have, anyway? He was pretty damn good at moving people around after a scene.

He stayed out of bed a few seconds to get undressed and retrieve a bottle of cold water, then climbed in next to Nathan and pulled the covers up over both of them. Nathan took the water gratefully, and after he and Brandon had had enough, let Brandon throw an arm over his chest and relaxed with him, grinning, eyes closing.

Brandon was still propped up like that several minutes later, past the point when Sean -- _why the hell are you thinking about Sean?_ \-- would have fallen asleep. Nathan squirmed and blinked his eyes open, looking up. "Hey there," he mumbled. "How you doing?"

"I think I'm supposed to be asking that," Brandon murmured back. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"Good. Not as tired as I look, but my throat hurts like hell." He was grinning ear-to-ear as he said that, though, so he hoped it was obvious he didn't mind. "You want to stay the night?"

"The room's ours if we want it. I'd be happy to stay."

_Okay, that means 'only if you do'._ Which Nathan didn't, not really, and as long as they were both on the same page with that, that was fine. "I'd sleep better in my own bed," he admitted. He nuzzled Brandon's chest. "You're damn good company, though. I don't mind staying if you'd like to stay."

"No, it's all right." Brandon gave Nathan a squeeze and pulled back. "I'd sleep better at home, too."

"Okay." Nathan stretched, back arching off the bed, as Brandon slid out from under the covers and started getting dressed. He was going to ache all over in the morning, and getting back into jeans was going to be fun. He chuckled. "I'm going to take a shower before I go. You don't have to wait for me."

"I feel like I should," Brandon blurted out, then looked at Nathan with both eyebrows raised. "I mean, no, I don't mind at all -- I just want to be sure you can get around okay by yourself, you know what I mean?"

"Oh, God, I'm fine. Really." Nathan sat up, wincing just a little. He shook his head at Brandon's expression. "No, no, good wince, good wince. Trust me on this; I really am fine to get myself home."

"I do trust you." Brandon was done getting dressed now, and he loomed over the bed, all six-foot-whatever of him. Nathan had to admit there was a certain amount of charm to that. All right, maybe not charm. More like animal sex appeal, which was just fine by him.

Brandon bent down and put a hand on Nathan's shoulder, squeezing lightly. He leaned down far enough to kiss him, and Nathan kissed back, nice and slow and easy. Brandon gave his shoulder one last squeeze, bit down gently on his lower lip, and pulled away.

"It was a great scene, Nate. Call me when you're ready to do the post-scene talk?"

"I will."

"Good night."

"G'night, Brand."

Brandon left, and Nathan fell back on the bed with a grunt. He rubbed a thumb over his lower lip. _Good kisser,_ he thought. _Damn good kisser._

He stayed like that for a good long while before he finally got up to shower.

~*~

"This is pretty cool," Brandon said. "I didn't realize you could cook."

Nathan grinned as he finished setting out lunch. "I can cook basically anything you want as long as it's Mexican or something you make over an open fire. What I can't do is boxed food. If it comes out of a box, I'm screwed."

Brandon laughed as he assembled a burrito. "You're kidding. Boxed food is the staple of bachelors everywhere."

"Yeah, I half-starved and got _really_ sick of pizza before I figured out my profoundly unusual curse." Nathan piled beans and steak onto his tortilla. "Oh, the salsas." He pointed with a fork. "Hot. Hotter. Blow the roof of your mouth off. I wasn't sure what you'd like."

"I like the roof of my mouth right where it is," Brandon said, going for the first of the three choices. "So how'd you get started doing Mexican food?"

"Sean's a fan."

"Sean is...?" Brandon asked, eyebrows going up. He stopped with his burrito halfway to his mouth, which was a funny look on him, Nathan had to admit.

"Oh, a friend of mine. My best friend, really."

"So he's not someone you've had to kick out in order to spend time working with me--"

"No, no, nothing like that. C'mon, I'd have told you if there were someone I needed to clear our arrangement with."

Brandon nodded. "Sorry. I'm still figuring things out. It's a little weird doing a great scene with somebody and then finding out they've got an arrangement that says they can only see people once."

"You should definitely start asking about that up-front, if it's something that's going to bother you."

"Well, I know that _now_."

Laughing, Nathan put his burrito down and sat back. "Okay. So I've got you eating, which general consensus says makes this sort of talk a little easier..."

Brandon shook his head and picked up his water glass, taking a fast drink. "No, I'm fine. You don't have to pull punches. How did I do last time?"

"Easy answer is you did great. It was a really nice first heavy scene, a hell of a lot of fun."

"That's good to hear -- I assume there's still some things you want to talk about, things I could have done better...?"

"You could have twenty years' experience under your belt and I'd still have things I wanted to talk about." Nathan grinned. "What were your impressions? How did it feel to you?"

"It felt _good_." Brandon was so earnest with that it made Nathan grin even more. "No, besides the obvious, it was nice going into a scene with someone for a second time, and I was really glad we'd had that first wrestling scene -- it took a lot of nervousness out of the equation for me, since it wasn't the first time we'd had any contact."

"Good. Definitely good."

"I had some trouble figuring out how hard you wanted me to spank you at first..."

"Mm-hm, but you did pick up on me wanting it harder--"

"I did, but you had to lead me there."

"That's why you've got me," Nathan pointed out. "Because I don't mind giving a little guidance from my end. You did fine about it as soon as we had a way to communicate with each other about how much I wanted, about going deeper. You kept up great, didn't get too heavy too fast, and I enjoyed the hell out of it when you were going hard. How about you? What did you think about going that hard?"

"It was fucking great." Brandon slid his chair back from the table so he could rub his palms down his thighs -- nervous gesture, but Nathan could tell Brandon was turned on just thinking about the scene, too, and that was a good sign. "I wish I'd started off a little harder."

"For its own sake or for me?"

"A little of both. I was pretty sure at the time you didn't need that much warmup, but I wasn't sure _enough_."

"That's what you gave me a slow word for, though," Nathan pointed out. "In case you started getting too heavy."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't want you to actually have to _use_ a safeword -- slow word. Either one."

Nathan shook his head. "Okay, what I'm about to say would probably make Sean roll his eyes, 'cause I'm hardly one to talk, but a safeword's not something to be afraid of. That sort of thing gets both halves of the equation into trouble. I'm not saying you want to whip it out with every scene if you're subbing -- and there are a lot of people for whom a safeword means 'we stop right here and the scene's over', so it can really break the mood -- but the assumption behind a slow word is that the scene's _not_ over. It _is_ all right to go there."

"Okay. Maybe. But on an early scene? Or as you pointed out earlier, a first heavy scene?"

"Well, ask yourself what would have been better -- trying to mind-read, or getting in-scene feedback."

Brandon opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. "Point taken," he said.

"A slow word's not the only way I have to communicate with you, either. You said you were pretty sure I didn't need that much warmup; how did you know?"

"Your body language. You started off a little more -- a little more intent, maybe? More focused?" Brandon was groping for the right word. "Do you know what I mean?"

"I do, yeah--" Nathan frowned. "I looked less focused by the end of the warmup?"

"You kinda looked impatient."

_Shit._ Nathan winced at that. "Okay, that part's my fault. There's guiding somebody who's there for that and then there's getting pushy, topping from the bottom."

"I wouldn't say it was going that far. I could've ignored that -- _I_ wanted to go harder, it wasn't just for you. If we'd been where I wanted us, I wouldn't have let the fact that you were looking a little impatient push me into doing more. That's not a good idea for either of us."

"Good. Good, I'm glad to hear that." Nathan sighed. "I'll keep an eye on that sort of thing. You feel free to call me on it if you see that happening again."

"Well, it's why I stopped and started touching you. I figured it was better to take a quick break to check in than to start guessing about what you weren't getting."

"That's a damn good instinct. And you did a good job with it."

"Thank you." Brandon scooted up to the table again and dug a chip into salsa. "Is there more?"

"Salsa?"

Brandon rolled his eyes. "Advice," he said. "Thoughts." He raised his eyebrows. "I assume there's more?"

"Yep." Nathan took a pause to have a few bites of lunch before it started getting cold; Brandon did the same, and after a couple of minutes, Nathan took a drink of water and sat back again. "This was your first time using titles with me. How did it feel?"

"A little strange on my end," Brandon admitted. "I mean, I've heard it -- I've heard a lot of it, and I've heard everything from 'boy' to 'lad' to 'slave', but it's one thing to hear it and something else to start using titles myself."

"I did notice you took some time warming up to it. A little bit in the beginning, and you were fine with it once you were fucking me, but somewhere in the middle--"

"Yeah," Brandon said. "Somewhere in the middle you weren't 'boy' so much as 'Nathan', and I wonder if that's going to run me into trouble later. Or if that's just because we did a scene without titles and we've been talking so much."

"Could be the latter. And if it's early on, it's perfectly understandable that you'd still need to warm up to using titles. Most people aren't just born ready to call people 'sir', either."

"Did that work for you?" Brandon asked. "Was it weird for you calling me 'sir'?"

"It worked fine. Titles are a good way for me to hook myself into a scene, to get used to the fact that I'm with someone who's going to be in control for a while. It wasn't weird for me at all. How did you like it?"

There was that slow grin of Brandon's. Jesus, it really did look good on him. Nathan chuckled. "That much, huh?"

"It was nice."

"Would you like to hear more of it as we're working together?"

"Definitely."

"Well, why don't we go with that as a default for now? We'll use 'boy' and 'sir' unless you'd like us not to for one reason or another."

"But just in-scene, right?" Brandon asked. "I don't think I want to do that outside a scene..."

"No, just in-scene sounds good to me. We're not 24/7 or anything like that."

"It's probably going to take a few tries before it really feels natural to me." Brandon grinned. "Was it like that back when you first started calling people 'sir'?"

"Or 'ma'am', but yeah. I know some doms who make it really easy, but back at the beginning it did feel kind of--"

"How?" Brandon interrupted. "How did they make it easy?"

Nathan had to think about it, really sit back and try to remember going from just liking it rough to calling someone _sir_. "The ones who made it easy in the beginning were the kinds of guys who just walked in and took over. No hesitating, no sense that they weren't completely comfortable in their roles. Really, it felt more like being a dominant wasn't so much a role as just who they were, so it didn't feel forced."

"Practice." Brandon sighed. "Sometimes I just want to -- I don't know. Download someone else's experiences directly to my brain so I can know everything _right now_." His grin was a little sheepish. "I know there's no way to rush things, but it doesn't keep me from wanting to."

"You're doing fine." Nathan polished off the last of his burrito. "You're a quick learner and you're a lot of fun to work with. I can understand the impatience."

Brandon was done by now himself, and he helped Nathan get things packed up and put away. "I know it'll get easier when I can read you better," he said. "Which is going to be great for us, but how do you think I'll do with other people?"

"Depends. How well do you read people in general? Do you pick up on what they're after immediately, or does it take more time than that?"

"I'm usually pretty good about it. It's just hard to be _sure_."

"Personally?" Nathan finished loading up the dishes and dusted his hands off. "I think mindreading is overrated. I'd rather spend time with someone I've worked with on a few successful occasions than always go from one new body to the next." He leaned forward on the island counter, arms crossed in front of him. "Which is not to say that new bodies aren't a great thing, sometimes, but I like familiarity."

"Well, we're working up to that." Brandon grinned and pulled out a bar stool, taking a seat across from Nathan. "I'm glad I'm getting six weeks with you. I like how honest you are about things."

"I work at that," Nathan said. "Jokes aside, I've never known a situation where honesty didn't pay off in the long run."

"Good policy." Brandon drummed his knuckles on the island for a few seconds, then sat up a little straighter. "All right. We've got a scene Wednesday, right?"

"Yep. Anything in particular you want to do with it?"

"Titles from the beginning, like we just talked about."

"Check."

"Let's do something with a few different types of toys this time. I've practiced with floggers and straps and slappers, so I figure I'll do some of that this time. Basic cross setup, if that works for you."

"Crosses work fine." Nathan's eyebrows tilted up. "I'm good with suspension, too, if that's something you want to try out sometime."

Brandon made a face. "No. Suspension looks too uncomfortable to be any fun."

"Oh, it's nowhere near that bad--"

"Say that after you've spent three months hanging by wires while you're wearing tights and a cape." Brandon shook his head. "I'll pass on the suspension -- I'd just end up wincing in sympathy the whole time and wanting to get you down from there."

"Okay, so the cross and the toys, that works. Anything else you'd like?"

"Oh, there's all kinds of things I'd _like_." That smile again. Not quite a smirk, just something that made it clear Brandon was capable of taking charge. It was a different look from the easygoing grin he had on his face most of the time, and it was starting to have a Pavlovian effect on Nathan's cock. "But I'd rather stick to a few things this time. Titles, cross, toys, and I'll probably get you off the cross to fuck you, but let's play that part by ear. I might not want to wait that long."

"You're going to have me jerking off thinking about it, you keep saying things like that..."

"I'd rather you didn't."

Nathan blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Between now and Wednesday. Can you hold off on that for me? I'd like that."

Two days. Nathan nodded. "I can do that. It might make it a little tougher for me to hold back on coming when we get into scene, though."

"Let's leave orgasm control off the table for this scene, then. You don't have to wait for permission, although if the time's right and you haven't, I'll probably growl at you." Slow grin again. Nathan was going to have to warn him about that look -- did he practice that one? It was effective as hell, and the notion of Brandon growling at him was pretty pleasant, too.

"You can growl all you want," Nathan murmured. "I'll do my best with it."

"As far as I can tell, you always bring your best. I appreciate that." Brandon slid off the bar stool and walked around the island to Nathan, who stood up straight and let Brandon pull him into a hug. He tilted his head up, and Brandon took the opportunity, kissing him lightly. It made Nathan grin under his lips, and Brandon pulled away, eyebrows raised. "What's the grin for?"

"I was just thinking you'd never know from that kiss that you can be an all-out, take-charge sort of guy--"

Brandon's eyes went dark, and he slid his hands down Nathan's arms -- slow and deliberate, no sudden moves, until his hands were on Nathan's wrists and he'd pinned them to the island. He pushed his hips forward, too, thighs blocking Nathan in, and he bent his head down again.

This time it was a harder, much more forceful kiss, one that Nathan just gave himself up to, Brandon's tongue sliding in deep and taking control of Nathan's mouth. One smooth thrust after another, and Nathan was starting to realize that the right kind of kiss could leave a guy feeling as well-fucked as the act itself.

By the time Brandon pulled back, Nathan was hard and trying to rub up against Brandon's thigh, panting softly.

"Better?" Brandon murmured. He still hadn't eased his grip at all; Nathan was trapped every bit as much as he had been during the kiss.

"Jesus," Nathan groaned. "Brand--"

"Wednesday." Brandon kissed Nathan's forehead and stepped back, letting go gently. "Seven. I'm going to get there early. I want to watch you strip off and get into character."

"Yeah." Nathan pulled away from the island and exhaled. "Wednesday. Seven. Looking forward to it." Understatement of the year, but the fact that he was verbal at all was to his credit. Brandon was one hell of a good kisser.

"So am I." Brandon winked at him and gave a quick wave as he turned to go. "See you then."

"See you," Nathan said. He waited until he heard the door open and close, then rubbed his palms down the front of his thighs, carefully avoiding his cock. He glanced down at it. _Wednesday,_ he thought. _And then he kisses me like that. Jesus, he's some kid._


	4. Captain Tightpants Has Just Signed On; These Boots Were Made For Licking

Two days seemed easy enough at first. Then again, they didn't exactly stay out of contact during the time in between scenes, so two days got a lot tougher when Brandon passed the confirmation email from the club along. _Room reservation: Suite 1360, St. Andrew's Cross and bed, with the following list of toys available..._ Brandon had tacked on a PS of his own: _You're going to look so damn hot on a cross._

That led to some back and forth banter in email, and when the emails got so fast they might as well be instant messaging each other, Nathan suggested getting on IM to chat in real-time. The window from Brandon popped up almost immediately.

rhymeswithmouth: Hey there. I take it you're not busy?

capntightpants: Not right at the moment.  
rhymeswithmouth: Tell me what you're wearing.  
capntightpants: That sounds like an invitation to something...  
rhymeswithmouth: Uh-huh. You game?  
capntightpants: Why not. Let's see, I really oughta say I'm just in my boxers, but in point of fact, I'm in a faded old grey t-shirt, boxers, and, yes, tube socks.

There was a pause, and Nathan could just picture Brandon laughing at that last one.

rhymeswithmouth: The tube socks? Are hot.  
capntightpants: Honesty first and foremost, even at the risk of making my potential cybersex partner laugh at me.  
rhymeswithmouth: All right, my turn. I just finished working out, so I'm in shorts and an A-shirt. Both black.  
capntightpants: Socks?

rhymeswithmouth: No, no, I lost the socks.  
rhymeswithmouth: I don't know if I could get into role in socks.

This time it was Nathan's turn to break up laughing. He leaned down and ditched his own socks, then kept typing.

capntightpants: OK, ditched mine, too. Better?  
rhymeswithmouth: You're going to need the traction if I decide to fuck you up against the counter, so yeah, better.

"Shit," Nathan muttered, reaching down to adjust his cock. If this conversation kept up in that direction, he was going to regret not having permission to come until the next time they saw each other. Granted, it was just a little over 24 hours by now, but it was still longer than his cock wanted to behave.

capntightpants: Counter, huh? Not the wall or the door or something?  
rhymeswithmouth: Counter. Definitely the counter. The island in your kitchen.  
capntightpants: That'd be fun. I thought about you doing something like that when you were over here yesterday.  
rhymeswithmouth: So did I. I was very tempted.

capntightpants: How far did you want to go with it?  
capntightpants: Did you just want to fuck me, or did you want more than that?  
rhymeswithmouth: I would've liked to hear you hurting for me.  
capntightpants: I like hurting for you.  
capntightpants: Hurting how?

rhymeswithmouth: I'm getting that impression.  
rhymeswithmouth: I was thinking about shoving you down on the island. Twisting your arm up behind your back and fucking you hard. Holding you down like that and just taking you.  
capntightpants: Looking for a struggle?  
rhymeswithmouth: It wouldn't have mattered.

"Fuck." Nathan put both his hands on the table; the excuse that he needed to adjust his cock was wearing pretty thin. "All right, so he's good on screen, too. You still don't have permission to jerk off."

capntightpants: You're going to drive me up the goddamned wall before Wednesday if you keep this up, you realize that?  
rhymeswithmouth: I hope so.  
capntightpants: You want me climbing the walls by the time you get to me?  
rhymeswithmouth: Something like that.

capntightpants: I'm pretty close already.  
rhymeswithmouth: Not close enough.  
rhymeswithmouth: Tell me something you fantasize about. Something "advanced-level", something we haven't touched on yet.

"Which part of the list do you want?" Nathan muttered. "Advanced-level." Advanced-level and something he could see doing with Brandon. It was a pretty long list, so he typed out the first thing that came to mind.

capntightpants: Blindfold and zippers.

rhymeswithmouth: Help the newbie. Zippers?  
capntightpants: You take a bunch of clothespins and run a string through 'em so you can rip 'em all off at once.  
rhymeswithmouth: Jesus.  
rhymeswithmouth: How much does something like that hurt?

Nathan laughed. "Christ, you're cute."

capntightpants: A lot.  
rhymeswithmouth: Where are you when I'm putting zippers on you? Standing up?  
capntightpants: Standing up works. Bent over something would work.  
rhymeswithmouth: Bent over something while I'm fucking you? Where are the zippers?

capntightpants: Down my thighs if you can get them to stay there.  
rhymeswithmouth: Can't hold onto you if I put them down your thighs.  
capntightpants: So pin my shoulders down or hold onto my arms?  
rhymeswithmouth: I'm way too dressed for this conversation. Give me a minute.

A minute to get undressed. The muscle shirt and workout shorts were a pretty image in the first place, but Brandon naked and still a little sweaty was even better.

capntightpants: Do you wear gloves to work out?  
rhymeswithmouth: Yeah, it's easier on my hands. Do you like gloves?  
capntightpants: I like leather in general.  
rhymeswithmouth: Everyone likes leather.

capntightpants: Not like I do.  
rhymeswithmouth: We could work with that. I could get my hands on a set of leather gloves. Nice tight ones.  
capntightpants: You are really making my dick hurt.  
rhymeswithmouth: And then I could get my hands on you.  
rhymeswithmouth: Good.

rhymeswithmouth: That's the point. Are you jerking off?  
capntightpants: Uh-uh. My top says I'm not supposed to come until Wednesday.

There was a long pause, long enough Nathan started typing things and deleting them, hoping he hadn't just screwed up, but the response came through before he could manage it.

rhymeswithmouth: Sometimes I feel like I'm still just goofing around with this, and sometimes I feel like I'm really starting to belong here. You know what I'm talking about?  
capntightpants: Oh, yeah. Oh, God, yeah.

rhymeswithmouth: I like this. All of this.  
rhymeswithmouth: I like hearing you call me your top.  
capntightpants: I like having you. You're good. You're fun. And you obviously care if it's good for me.  
rhymeswithmouth: I want Wednesday to be good for you. I want you clawing at the walls trying to get more.  
capntightpants: I think you can get me there.

rhymeswithmouth: I can't wait.  
rhymeswithmouth: And I desperately need to get off right now. My head's reeling.  
capntightpants: Want some help with that?  
rhymeswithmouth: Yes.

Somewhere in the living room, Nathan's phone rang. The sound made him jump, and he knocked his knee into the underside of the table. He grimaced as he typed a question:

capntightpants: Is that you on the phone?  
rhymeswithmouth: Of course it's me. I'd rather have both hands free for this, if that works for you?  
capntightpants: Yeah, hang on. My phone's in the other room.

The living room was more comfortable for this anyway, and he stretched out on his back on the couch before picking up. "Hey."

"Hey yourself. Where are you?"

"Living room. Couch. Flat on my back."

"Not where I want you. Are you willing to kneel right now?"

_Shit._ Nathan sat up, cock jerking. _Not where I want you._ "Yes, sir." He got on his knees and thumbed the speakerphone setting as he put the phone on the coffee table. "I'm on my knees now, sir."

"Good boy." It sounded like the words came to him pretty easily this time, and Nathan grinned. "Are you still dressed?"

"Everything but the socks, sir."

Brandon laughed. "Get the rest of your clothes off. And give me a second while I do the same."

"Yes, sir." Nathan stripped the t-shirt off over his head and got the boxers off without coming off his knees -- Brandon couldn't see it, but that was no reason to get lazy or act counter to an order. Impromptu scenes weren't Nathan's thing for the most part, not with someone he hadn't known for very long, but what the hell -- he'd known Brandon long enough, and it wasn't likely to go very far over the phone. _Just far enough to drive me crazy._

"Still there, boy?"

"Still here, sir."

"Talk to me. Tell me something you'd like to get from me. Something you'd like to spend time doing for me."

"How do you feel about boot worship, sir?"

Brandon grunted -- damn, grunts could be hard to read over the phone. Good sound? Bad sound? Dismissive sound? "Depends," Brandon said. "How rough can I get with you while you're doing it?"

_Oh, God._ "Pretty damned rough, sir. What've you got in mind?"

"Me on one knee, you on both knees with your hands cuffed behind your back. Your mouth on one of my boots. I'll wear gloves for this. A jacket, if that's not going over the top with that interest you've got in leather."

_I'd take you in head-to-foot leather. Chaps. Leather pants._ "It's not over the top, sir," Nathan said. His voice sounded hoarse to his ears, so he cleared his throat. "That sounds great, sir. All of that." _Rough with me. Rough with me how?_

"One hand in your hair to keep you where I want you. I'd want to growl at you while you're doing it."

"Christ, sir, I'd love that."

"I just can't decide whether I'd get my dick out right then and have you suck me or whether I'd put you on your back first -- on your arms so they're pinned down -- and just fuck your mouth while you're there on your back."

Nathan moaned. "Jesus fucking Christ, sir, either of those -- please, sir."

"Does that sound good to you, boy? Lying there while I've got you by the hair and I'm forcing my dick down your throat?"

"_Yes._ Christ, sir. Yes, that sounds very fucking good, sir."

A moan from Brandon this time. "Good boy," he panted. "Where are your hands?"

"Behind my back, sir."

"Keep them there."

_Damn._ "Yes, sir."

"I've got a hand on my dick right now. I'm just thinking about how we'd look, with me all over you and my boots still gleaming from your tongue."

"Christ, we'd look good, sir--"

"You're goddamned right we'd look good," Brandon growled, and Nathan groaned just hearing it. "Give me -- _nngh_ \-- I want to--" He panted for a few seconds, then started that sentence over. "Beg me for it," he said instead. "If you want to hear it when I come, beg me for it."

Easy enough order -- if Nathan wasn't going to get to come himself, he was sure as hell going to listen to Brandon doing it and take the memory of that sound to bed with him. "God, sir, please, please let me hear you, please let me hear that, you sound so damned good when you're coming, sir -- please, let me hear it from you, please--"

Brandon groaned, and the groan got longer and rougher, as if Brandon were clenching his teeth together and snarling out the sound between them. It was a darker sound than Nathan had heard from him before, but it was good -- Jesus, it was a good sound. It eventually dropped off to nothing, and then Nathan could hear Brandon panting in the background.

"Thank you, sir," Nathan murmured. "Thank you for letting me hear that."

"Mmm." Brandon chuckled. "Thank you for being part of that." There were a few rustling sounds -- cleanup, maybe -- and a soft sigh. "It must be driving you crazy not to be jerking off right now."

"It's taking no small amount of willpower, sir, I gotta admit."

"You're being a good boy for me. I'll pay that off the next time I see you."

"Thank you, sir." Nathan smiled. "Feels good hearing you say that."

"I'm glad." Brandon yawned this time, and ended up laughing at himself. "I need a shower now. I'm sticky."

"Wish I were there to help you clean up, sir."

"I wish you were, too. But if we'd been in the same place you'd be the sticky one. I'd have come all over your face."

"I could handle sticky, sir."

"I'm sure you could." Brandon paused. "Are you still on your knees?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come on up now. Let's get you back on your couch, or wherever's comfortable for you."

Nathan felt a small pang of disappointment at that -- he definitely wasn't getting to come, then. "All right. Thank you for that, Brandon -- that was fun as hell to listen in on."

"It was fun as hell to do." Brandon laughed. "I hope you don't mind my taking over like that. I know you're not as into improvisation as I am..."

"I'm not sure I realized you're into improvisation." Nathan's eyebrows went up. "We haven't talked much about that."

"I do like spur-of-the-moment scenes. This one worked better than most, though."

"They usually do when you know someone a little better. I'll be honest -- I wouldn't have done this for just anyone. I know you well enough, though, and you did a good job with it."

"Well, I'm glad you thought so. Listen, though... I'm still half-dizzy from coming just now. I don't think I'm in a place to do the feedback conversation. Can we hang onto it for now?"

"Yeah, we can do that. Save it for after tomorrow's scene." Not Nathan's first choice, but it'd do. "We're still on for tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," Brandon said. "I'd like it if you'd keep holding off on coming until then."

"I was planning on it."

"Good. I'm looking forward to seeing you."

"Me, too, Brand. See you tomorrow."

"See you then."

Nathan hung up and got to his feet, stretching. A cold shower sounded good about now.

~*~

Brandon was waiting for Nathan in the café Wednesday afternoon. Nathan grinned as he headed for Brandon's table. "How early did you get here?" he asked.

Brandon looked up and got to his feet. He smiled back and pulled Nathan into a hug. "Half an hour. I wanted to beat you here for once."

"Beating _is_ on the agenda."

"What? Oh!" Brandon laughed. "Our room's all set. I've already been up to see it."

"You really are on top of things today. And that one's an intentional pun." Nathan glanced down at Brandon's feet, taking the excuse to look over what Brandon was wearing. The usual black t-shirt, blue jeans, boots. The boots were ones Nathan hadn't seen before; they looked new. They had the O-ring and straps like any traditional set of motorcycle boots; he wondered if they were calf-height or ankle-height. Hard to tell while Brandon was standing up.

Apart from the boots, there was a backpack on the floor. Nathan raised his eyebrows and looked at Brandon. "Should I get that?"

"Please."

It was a short walk from the café to the elevators, and they managed to get one on their own. Brandon pushed the button for their floor and turned to Nathan. "I've been looking forward to seeing you again," he murmured.

"That makes two of us." Nathan straightened his posture, widening his stance. Brandon came face-to-face with him, thighs pressing up against Nathan's, and he wrapped an arm around Nathan's waist. Brandon was already hard, and finding that out for sure made Nathan's cock follow suit in a hurry. Brandon bent his head down and kissed Nathan, gentle at first, then harder, easing his way into Nathan's mouth and taking over. Nathan was nearly groaning by the end of it, rubbing up. _Might as well do it while I have a chance -- before the roles go on._ He didn't reach out for Brandon -- his hands stayed behind his back, both of them still holding onto the backpack -- but he was squirming like a whore who'd been paid to do it, and the hot friction of contact made up for not being able to reach out and touch Brandon.

Brandon pulled back. "It starts when we walk into the room," he murmured. "Once we're inside, I want 'sir' from you."

"All right." Nathan licked his lips and swallowed. The elevator came to a stop, and Brandon pulled Nathan out of it, pressing him up against the wall just beside the elevator doors. Nathan dropped the backpack as Brandon kissed him again, this time bringing both arms up so he could get his hands on Brandon's back. The kid was so fucking built it wasn't even funny, and Nathan made a mental note to go the hell back to the gym. He'd been slacking on that this week.

Brandon got a hand into Nathan's hair and pinned his head back against the wall. "Stop that."

"What?" Nathan moved his hands away from Brandon's body, putting them flat on the wall behind him. "Sorry--"

"No, not that. You can touch me. We haven't gotten started yet." Brandon's grip got a little tighter, edging towards pain. It felt good. Threatening in a way that made Nathan feel excited, not scared. "But stay here with me. You were getting distracted."

"Sorry," Nathan said, grinning. "I was thinking I need to work out more."

Laughing, Brandon took Nathan's hand and ran it up his chest. "I'd work out less, but I have to maintain my weight until we're sure they don't need me for any more reshoots. The suit won't fit if I lose weight. Or gain weight."

"Oh, that's got to be a pain in the ass." Nathan ran his hand over Brandon's chest, squeezing a little. "You look really damned good this way, though." He wondered how much Brandon was benching these days -- 200? 215? More than Nathan had ever put on a weight bar in his life, that was for sure.

"Thank you," Brandon murmured. He let Nathan go and stepped back. "Are you ready?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Let's go in."

Nathan picked the backpack up again and followed Brandon into the room. The lighting was low, but it was still enough to see by. There was a cross set up in one corner, bed nearby. There was a water bottle on the nightstand already, saving them the trip from minibar to bed at the end of the scene. In the corner opposite the cross, there was a small sitting area, with a pair of armchairs and a small coffee table. Brandon headed for that and took a seat on one of the armchairs, one foot going up on the table. Ankle-height boots. The leather looked new, barely broken in. Nathan swallowed.

"Come on over. Stand right here." Brandon pointed at the floor in front of him, and Nathan walked over. "Go ahead and set the backpack down for now. We'll get to it in a minute." Nathan did that, too, and stood in a parade rest-inspired pose while Brandon looked him over. The scene felt deeper already, and having Brandon sitting there inspecting him, one boot conspicuously on display, was dragging Nathan down hard. He could still observe in headspace, but it was going to be a whole different scene if he didn't fight the urge to sink into it.

"You look uncomfortable," Brandon said softly. "What are you thinking?"

Nathan looked up at Brandon's face and licked his lips. "Sorry, sir," he said. "Sir, we haven't played with me in headspace yet, and I could go there real easily right now."

"Do you want to go there?" Brandon wasn't moving, and he still looked calm -- that was helpful.

"I'd like to, but it's going to mean my in-scene feedback won't be as useful. I can give it to you if you need it, but when I'm in headspace I want to follow."

"I want you following." Brandon slid a hand down his thigh, and Nathan's eyes tracked the motion, watching as Brandon's fingertips ran up his inseam and rested just beside his crotch. He swallowed again. "Do you trust me to lead that heavily?"

"Yeah. _Yes_, sir." He shouldn't be going this far this soon, and he knew it, but they'd done one scene on an improvisational level, and it'd worked out fine. _Over the phone. Yeah, you go ahead and justify it while you hope like hell he'll have you on his boots just as soon as you get this fucking conversation out of the way._ "I trust you, sir."

"Tell me your safeword."

"Serenity."

"Are you prepared to use it if you need to?"

_As much as I ever am._ Which wasn't much, but if things hit an emergency point, he'd bring it out. "Yes, sir."

"All right. Trust me and let yourself go, boy," Brandon murmured. "Close your eyes and take a nice deep breath for me."

Nathan did, and it felt good. He exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease, letting all the voices in his head dissipate. _Yes._ This was what felt so damned good about submission -- letting someone else take over. Trusting someone else to take over this way. _He's a good kid. He's not going to let you down or get you hurt._

"Another breath, boy," Brandon said. "Easy. We're not rushing into this."

_Yeah?_ Nathan thought, but he took the breath as ordered and let it out nice and slow. He flexed his fingers, tightened and released his shoulders, and the posture felt better. More natural.

"Good. Again."

One more breath, and Nathan felt something give a little. He wasn't just standing there now; he was waiting on orders.

_Jesus, he's good. He's very, very good._

"Good boy. Let's get you undressed. Start with your shirt, please."

_Please._ God, Brandon was cute. "Yes, sir," Nathan murmured, and he stripped his shirt off over his head, folding it neatly and putting it aside. He came back to parade rest and kept his eyes on the floor, concentrating on the toe of Brandon's left boot. What the hell; it was on the floor.

"Shoes next. And socks."

"Yes, sir." Nathan went down to one knee to get his shoes off; better than hopping around on one foot, which was a proven mood-breaker. At least with Sean. He set shoes and socks aside and stayed on his knees, sliding his hands down his thighs and then putting his hands behind his back again.

"You look damn good kneeling, boy," Brandon murmured. "You can come off your knees long enough to get your jeans off."

"Thank you, sir." Nathan didn't really need to, not much, anyway, but he took the permission as offered and stood up, sliding his jeans off, folding them up, setting them on top of the rest of his clothes and going back down to his knees.

"Look up at me."

Nathan took his eyes off Brandon's boot and looked Brandon in the face. Brandon wasn't exactly smiling, but there was something about his expression that looked pleased. _Satisfied_ might be a better word. Nathan watched as Brandon looked him over and then nodded, and he couldn't stop his own grin. _I pass inspection_, he thought. That felt pretty good.

"We talked about getting your mouth on my boots," Brandon murmured. "Let's do some of that. Come on over." He glanced down at his right boot, still propped up on the coffee table. "Start with this one."

"Yes, sir." Nathan crawled over -- it was only a couple of steps, so it wasn't like he was doing it to show off -- and put his hands behind his back again as he bent his head down and kissed the toe of Brandon's boot. His whole body felt warm with that; the leather tasted so damned _good_, and there was so much of it -- Brandon was a big guy, head to toe, and Nathan started taking slow, easy licks up his instep, headed for that O-ring.

"Good boy," Brandon murmured. "Show me a little more. Show me how much this is turning you on."

Nathan hummed in response to that and made his swipes a little more theatrical, slowing them down, moaning as he ran his tongue over inch after inch of new leather. _So fucking good._

"That's it. Get me wet. I want that boot gleaming when you're done with it, boy, so don't miss anything."

_No, sir._ Nathan made a negatory sound -- _I won't miss anything_ \-- and kept going. Christ. Brandon was going to kill him -- just outright kill him before the scene even got started. And what was it he'd said on the phone? _How rough can I get with you?_ Jesus Christ, Nathan wanted that. _Be rough with me. Please, sir, be rough with me--_

Brandon wasn't a mindreader, Nathan was pretty sure about that, but he did reach down and get his hand into Nathan's hair. "You love this, don't you?" he murmured. "Love getting my boots spit-slick for me. All that hot leather under your mouth."

"Yes, sir," Nathan whispered, and went right back to licking, leaning forward to get at the straps around Brandon's ankle.

"Such a good boy. God, you look hot doing that." Brandon tightened his grip and stopped Nathan from moving anywhere; Nathan kept licking at the inch under his mouth. He wasn't going to stop unless he was ordered to. This felt too damned good to stop. "Other one now."

Nathan swallowed a little disappointment -- he hadn't gotten to work the straps over nearly as much as he'd wanted to -- but let Brandon move him anyway, from the boot up on the coffee table to the one that was still flat on the floor. Nathan had to spread his knees wide for balance, but that was just fine by him. He rubbed his cheek against Brandon's boot, then stretched his tongue out -- but Brandon had other plans, and Nathan groaned as Brandon took over, rubbing his face all over that leather. _Pretty fucking rough,_ Nathan thought. _Christ, this is what he does with his first boot worship scene -- he'll be a goddamned virtuoso by the time he's done._

"You look so fucking hot, boy," Brandon whispered. "About the only way you'd look hotter is if I'd just come all over your face -- my boots and your face -- and I was rubbing your face all over it, watching come smear all over your cheeks and that leather while you tried to lick up what you could."

"Oh _fuck_," Nathan groaned. "Fuck, sir, that sounds so good..."

"You sound hungry for that." Brandon rubbed Nathan's cheek against his boot a little harder. "And I'm hard. But I'm not anywhere near coming yet. You'd have to do something about that."

"Yes, sir, what would you like?" Nathan asked. Brandon dragged him upright, leaning forward, and Nathan parted his lips so Brandon could kiss him. This was nothing like the kisses by the elevator; there was no give-and-take with this. It was just Brandon, taking, and Nathan, opening to him. Warm, slick glides of tongue over tongue; Brandon's teeth digging into Nathan's lower lip. Nathan groaned again, trying not to squirm.

"You know what I want," Brandon murmured. He licked across Nathan's lips again. "You know exactly what I want, boy. I want your mouth around my dick. I want you sucking like you're starved for it."

Which Nathan was, he realized. He licked his lips, swallowed hard. "Please, sir," he whispered, "please, let me suck your cock. Please."

"C'mere." Brandon sat back, pulling Nathan's head forward as he did. He spread his legs and let Nathan fit himself between them, but he didn't give Nathan a chance to get his jeans open before he pressed Nathan's face hard against his cock. Still -- it was trapped under denim, but it was _there_, and Nathan moaned and tried his best to fit his mouth over it, licking, sucking at the head, tracing the contours of Brandon's cock with his lips and his tongue, getting that denim nice and dark and wet. Brandon sat still for it, hand moving lightly through the hair at the nape of Nathan's neck.

"Please," Nathan whispered, "sir, please, please let me suck your cock..."

"Get your hands up and get my cock out. _Now_, boy."

"Yes, sir!" Nathan didn't need to be told twice. He was quick about it, unbuckling Brandon's belt, unfastening the button and easing his zipper down. He had a moment's dismay at finding briefs to deal with, but Brandon helped him out by lifting his ass off the chair and letting Nathan tug both jeans and briefs down to his thighs.

Then Brandon's cock was out and in reach, and it was all Nathan could do to wait before pouncing. Most of his brain was taken up by a sense of need, and that sense was only getting stronger. _Please--_

Brandon got a hand behind Nathan's neck and squeezed lightly. "Out loud," he said. "Don't just beg with your eyes and the sexy little way your tongue's moving over your lips. You beg for me with _words_."

"Jesus," Nathan panted, _God, he's going to be so good at this_, "fuck, yeah, please, sir -- please, God, you look so goddamned good, you smell so good, please let me suck you, sir, please!"

"Good," Brandon murmured, tightening his hand on Brandon's neck. He got his other hand on his cock and held it steady, tip brushing against Nathan's lips. "Open your mouth."

The order was specific. _No cheating._ Nathan opened his mouth, letting his tongue rest on his lower lip.

"Wider."

Nathan followed orders. A little wider now.

Good enough; Brandon pulled Nathan's mouth forward and slipped the head of his cock just past Nathan's lips. Nathan moaned out loud, and Brandon squeezed the back of his neck.

"Don't move," he murmured. "You just stay there and let me move you."

Nathan couldn't even moan in response; that'd be cheating, too. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe steadily. Brandon didn't make him wait for it too long, though, thank God. He started moving Nathan's head lower, forcing the first few inches of his cock into Nathan's mouth.

"All right," he whispered. "Easy now. Slow. Suck me. Use your tongue on me."

Easy, slow -- not what Nathan wanted at all, but orders were orders, and if Brandon wanted to draw this out, he'd get it slow and easy until he said otherwise. Nathan sucked those first few inches, rubbing his tongue up against the underside of Brandon's cock, back and forth, side to side, curling the tip up and drawing a nice hard line from as far down as he could reach to the head. Brandon hissed a breath through his teeth and slid his hand into Nathan's hair, tightening it to just this side of painful. That felt good, very good, but there was no way to beg for more like this.

_Right. And that's the point. You don't have to lead this one._

It wasn't a solid, all-at-once _click_ into headspace, but it was a move in that general direction, and either Brandon's sense of timing was inhumanly good or he picked up on it, because he dragged Nathan's mouth down harder. It felt like a reward, and Nathan responded in kind, enthusiasm showing in the way his lips tightened and his tongue rubbed over as much of Brandon's cock as he could reach.

Brandon groaned and got both hands into Nathan's hair. He started rocking his hips up -- easy at first, and when Nathan's response was to suck harder, he moved faster. Nathan moved forward as much as Brandon's grip let him, moaning for more when he could manage the sounds. Brandon's dick was long enough that deep-throating wasn't something Nathan could do casually -- he'd need practice for that -- but he got as much down his throat as he could, trying his damnedest to let Brandon ride him as hard and as fast as he wanted. Not just ride him -- _use_ him. Brandon was doing just that, using Nathan's mouth _hard_, and Nathan felt himself slip a little further down. _Jesus, I've been selling him so fucking short. He's good at this._

The speed was picking up little-by-little, and Brandon was starting to make sounds -- little groans, breaths hissed in between closed teeth, the occasional muttered word. Mostly those words were things like _christ_ and _yeah_, but there were occasional orders in them, too, _more_ and _harder_ and _just like that, boy, c'mon_, and Nathan followed the orders as best he could. He could tell from the sound of it that Brandon was getting close, and when Brandon pushed him back, slid Nathan's mouth off his cock entirely, Nathan licked his lips and looked up at Brandon's face as he tried to catch his breath.

Brandon was breathing pretty heavily himself. He nodded at Nathan. "Good job," he panted. "Move back a step."

Nathan moved as ordered, getting himself into a full kneel as Brandon stood up and got a hand around his dick. He looked down at the floor, up at Nathan's face, and growled, "Hold still." Nathan got his mouth open, knowing damn well what was coming, and Brandon groaned hard and came, aiming the streaks first at Nathan's face, then down, hitting the carpet and the side of one boot and the hem of his jeans before it was all over.

Nathan was ready to beg -- he even got the word "Please" out -- but Brandon was already moving, nearly collapsing back into the chair and grabbing Nathan by the hair as he went, dragging Nathan down to the floor, down to his boots. Nathan grunted, nearly losing his balance, but he got his forearms down on the floor for support just in time. The break in posture didn't even seem to catch Brandon's attention -- he was focused on getting Nathan's face rubbed all over his boot, dragging Nathan's cheeks over leather until he and the boot were part of the same sticky, white-streaked mess.

"Fuck, you're so good," Brandon murmured. "Get that cleaned up for me, boy, and we'lll go to work on you."

The extra incentive was hardly necessary -- Nathan was more than willing to do this for its own sake -- but it did give him an idea of the pace Brandon was looking for. _Fast._ Nathan did his best with the boot and Brandon's jeans, but the grip in his hair didn't give him enough room to lick up the smear on the carpet. Once Brandon's boot was clean, Brandon pulled Nathan upright. Nathan tried to lick up what was left on his lips, but there was only so much he could do; his cheeks were pretty messy at this point.

Brandon let his hair go and took hold of Nathan's chin with thumb and forefinger, holding him still. He leaned in and left a few soft kisses over Nathan's jawline, down his cheek, finally kissing Nathan's mouth.

"I'm going to leave you like this," he murmured. "I want to hurt you while you're still wearing my come on your face."

"Please," Nathan whispered -- tried to whisper, anyway, his voice was hoarse as hell. "Please, sir, Christ, I'd give anything to have you hurting me."

"You're getting it. You're getting it right now." Brandon sat up, dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. He dug into a pocket and came up with a tissue, cleaning the back of his hand and the few drops of come he still had on his cock, and then stood up and got his clothing back together. He stepped around Brandon and picked up the backpack, then nodded over to the other side of the room. "Right now," he repeated. "Cross. Go."

Nathan stood up -- _go_ and _right now_ implied a speed he wasn't going to be able to make on all fours -- and headed over. Brandon was right behind him, and before Nathan could ask whether Brandon wanted him facing the cross or facing away from it, Brandon had a hand on the small of his back and was pressing him forward. _Facing the cross._ Nathan stepped up, got his arms and legs in position, and rested his forehead against the support. He was aching for this, aching pretty damned hard, and he hoped like hell Brandon was going to decide to be at this for a while.

He stayed still as Brandon got his wrists and ankles buckled down, and then Nathan heard the backpack unzipping, heard the rustle of leather tails as Brandon shook them out. So Brandon actually owned a few toys and was going to use those instead of the ones the club provided -- that sounded good. Nathan relaxed against the cross and grinned. _Let's see how he does with this._

Brandon slid a hand down Nathan's back. "All right," he murmured. "So here's what's happening right now. I'm going to hurt you, and I need you to be honest about your reactions. If it's too light and it's making you restless, you have permission to squirm. If it's too heavy, I want to encourage you to use a slow word. If it's just right, I want to hear you moaning like a whore for me." He leaned in and licked the back of Nathan's neck. "I want your shoulders, ass, and thighs red and hurting by the time we're done here."

_Shoulders_, Nathan thought, moaning softly. "Yes, sir."

"Let's get to it." Brandon left a soft bite on the back of Nathan's neck and stepped away. Nathan could hear him shaking out the tails again, and steadied himself. Squirm, slow word, moaning like a whore. Yeah, he could handle all of that. He could definitely handle all of that.

This time Brandon didn't start as light as he had with the spanking. He left a nice heavy blow across Nathan's ass, and Nathan nodded. "Please," he said softly. "Please, sir..."

"I'm just getting started, boy," Brandon promised, and he got going in earnest then, landing a good half-dozen blows on Nathan's ass. The impact was nice, the pace was good -- steady and even, something Nathan could let go and sink into -- and Nathan squirmed enough to make it obvious he could take it harder. Brandon didn't let himself get rushed, but by the time he'd landed his thirteenth, fourteenth blow, he was throwing those tails with some force behind them. Nathan just hoped Brandon could keep this going until they were both out of breath and Nathan was ready to come from the beating all by itself.

Brandon was singleminded about it, focusing on Nathan's ass instead of moving from shoulders to ass to thighs and back again. Nathan started groaning after Brandon had landed a handful more strokes; this was a good, solid burn, and he could stand to be here for a while. Luckily for him, Brandon picked up on that, and he stopped ramping up the blows, instead speeding up just a little. The weight of that many blows added up in time, though, and when Nathan's breathing moved to a sharp hiss, Brandon eased up -- both in speed and weight -- and eventually stopped, running a hand over Nathan's ass.

"Good?" he murmured.

"_Yeah_," Nathan moaned. Brandon gave him a hard smack, and Nathan yelped, jerking against the cross. "Yes, sir!"

"Ready for more?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good boy." Brandon slid his hand down from Nathan's ass to his thigh and gave it a hard pinch. "You're being good for me. I like that. Can you handle it if I start in harder here?"

"You bet, sir," Nathan said. Brandon chuckled and slapped Nathan's thigh, nothing easy or soft about it. Nathan hissed, but pushed back against Brandon's hand for more. "Please, sir!"

"Let's get some red on your thighs," Brandon murmured, and he drew back. Nathan stayed loose, waiting for the first blow, and when it hit, he let it rock him against the cross. Start in harder, hell -- there was barely enough room for warmup at that rate. He could take that, not a problem, but Christ, Brandon had better be sure he was playing with subs tough enough to take it like that in the future.

Nathan _was_ one of those subs, though, and he filed his mental note away so he could start enjoying the beating all over again. This felt _different_, a whole different side of Brandon -- someone who wanted to start it up rough and just keep it there, hard and unforgiving, until Nathan was gasping and moaning out loud. _He does this to my shoulders and I'll come all over the cross,_ Nathan thought, panting in rhythm with the blows. Every one of them was sending a tremor down his legs now, and he was glad the cross gave him so much support. Doing this bent over something would've been even better. Then again, doing it bent over something would've meant giving up on having his shoulders worked over, and that was the last thing Nathan wanted right now.

Brandon ramped down the beating and eventually stopped altogether, letting Nathan catch his breath. He reached out and slid a hand up the inside of Nathan's thigh, fingers sliding between Nathan's cheeks as Nathan squirmed. "I can't wait to get into you," he murmured. "You're gonna feel so good for me, boy..." He worked two fingers into Nathan's ass, dry; Nathan groaned and pushed back, trying to get more. "You think this hurts?" His other hand came up and smacked Nathan's ass; Nathan clenched up despite himself. "Think about how it's going to feel when it's my cock splitting you open. Think about that while I work your shoulders over."

"Oh, fuck, yes, _please_, sir!" Nathan got out, gasping when Brandon drew his hand away and took a step back. "Sir, please, God, yeah, please let me have it, please -- shoulders -- yes, please!"

"You're so fucking hot when you're begging, boy," Brandon murmured. "You ready for me to start up hard?"

"_Please_, sir!"

He started in just as hard as he had with Nathan's thighs, first blow landing from left to right, next one from right to left, pace slow enough for Nathan to take a breath between each strike. Nathan groaned out loud and let himself enjoy it. Everything felt so damned good -- being pressed to leather, being cuffed down, his cock leaving precum smears against the cross, his thighs and ass burning and his shoulders catching up. "Hell, yeah," he groaned, "oh, Christ, yes, sir, please, God, fuck, _so fucking good_, please, sir, _hurts_, so hot, _yes_," and more words fell like water, just one after another until he had no idea what he was saying and didn't care. Somewhere in the background, Brandon was responding -- Nathan was pretty sure he was getting things like _good boy_ and _hell, yes, you can have more of this_ in response to all the words Nathan was babbling -- but all that really mattered was the impact of tails against his shoulders, the burn that built up and made Nathan want to rub up hard against the cross and hope it was enough to get off.

Nathan groaned again and tried to think back. Orgasm control -- Brandon had said it was off the table for this scene. He could come like this if he wanted to, but all the same... "Sir? _Fuck_. Oh, God -- sir -- _close_ \-- Christ, I'm close, sir, please--"

Brandon stopped and came forward, putting a hand on Nathan's shoulder and squeezing. Nathan gasped, and he gasped harder when Brandon stepped up close enough to crush him against the cross and get denim pressed hard against his ass and thighs. "Good boy," he panted. "You don't have to wait, but I'm glad you told me."

"Oh, fuck, _please_," Nathan moaned. Brandon was hard again, and that was exactly why Nathan had gotten the warning out -- he wanted to come with Brandon's cock inside him. "Please, sir, please--"

"Please?" Brandon whispered, hands moving down to Nathan's hips. He pressed his own forward, rubbing and scratching against already-aching skin. "Is my boy ready for cock? Is that what you're begging for?"

"_Yes_," Nathan moaned. Brandon slammed his hips forward, crushing Nathan against the cross, and got a hand into Nathan's hair, pulling back hard. It didn't feel angry -- it felt controlling. Like he'd fucked something up and Brandon was going to wait until he got it right -- _oh_. "Yes, sir," Nathan gasped, "_sir_, yes, please, fuck your boy, please, boy's fuckin' desperate for it, sir, please--"

"Bed," Brandon growled at him. "I want you on the bed for this." He let Nathan's hair go and reached for his cuffs, getting his wrists undone, then his ankles. Nathan was still more than capable of walking on his own, but he barely needed to; Brandon got an arm around his waist and supported him on the way over.

"Lean over," he murmured. "Put your arms down." Nathan did, spreading his legs while he was at it, and Brandon grabbed lube and a condom out of the backpack, tossing the lube onto the bed while he got the condom on. "Let's do it this way this time," he said, and Nathan turned his head to see what in hell that meant. Brandon got a handful of lube and smeared his cock with it, getting his cock slick. He rubbed his fingers into Nathan's crack, but didn't open him up. Nathan's eyes went wide, and he dropped his forehead to the bed, bracing himself. This was going to hurt like a motherfucker--

"--_Christ_," Nathan grunted, eyes squeezing shut as Brandon pushed that first inch in. He shoved back anyway -- _give it a second and it'll feel good_ \-- and Brandon got both hands on Nathan's hips and pushed in harder. "_Hurts_ \-- sir," Nathan panted.

"I know," Brandon growled back, hips pushing forward _hard_ until the last few inches of his cock were buried nice and deep in Nathan's ass. "Jesus, you're such a good boy." He squeezed Nathan's hips hard. "You're so _good_."

He pulled his hips back, and Nathan yelled something incoherent as Brandon's cock dragged its way out of him -- the friction was still intense -- but the next stroke in was easier to take. It was also twice as fast and twice as hard as he'd pulled out, and Nathan scrambled for a grip on the covers so he wouldn't collapse onto the bed.

Brandon didn't ease up. He kept going until Nathan was yelling, until the yells were more _oh, fuck, sir_ than _please, harder, sir_, and Nathan wondered if Brandon could hear the difference. It was one of the hardest fucks he'd had in recent memory. Brandon was walking the borderline between painful enough to be fantastic and too painful to feel good, staying just this side of too hard, and Nathan felt an edgy tension building up between his shoulders. He blew out a breath, hard, and forced himself to calm down. _He's not gonna let you walk away hurt. Relax._

Easier said than done when Brandon was driving into him like he was never going to stop, but Nathan got his hands unclenched and let his body open for all those rough strokes. The last traces of resistance left him, and he was right where Brandon must have wanted him -- a hole to fuck, just a willing body underneath him. Brandon slowed down a trace, and Nathan panted with relief. "Christ, yeah, sir," he whispered.

"Good boy," Brandon murmured back. He reached around and got Nathan's cock in his hand. It took a few strokes to get him completely hard again, but Brandon's coordination was perfect, every stroke with his hand matching one into Nathan's body. Before long, Nathan was following Brandon's lead, groaning hard and getting closer by the second.

"Sir, please--"

"If you want," Brandon said softly, "or you can wait for me, boy."

"I'll... wait," Nathan panted. "Sir." He meant it, but how long was Brandon going to take? It still felt like he was going to be at it all night. Nathan was going to ache like hell by the time he finished.

"Good boy." Brandon squeezed Nathan's cock a little harder and started fucking him just a little rougher. "Really good. _God._" He stopped talking, and Nathan groaned as Brandon's pace got fast again in a hurry. It didn't have time to hurt for long, though, because Brandon gave him a handful of fast, deep thrusts and came with a growl -- no shit, a _growl_ right over Nathan's back, and that sound set Nathan off, too, cock jerking with hot streaks that fell over Brandon's fingers and got him slick for the last few passes Brandon's hand made down his cock. Nathan panted through the last of it, grunting when Brandon pulled back and collapsing face-first onto the bed. Brandon was still on his feet somehow, but he didn't stay that way for long, dropping down next to Nathan with a groan.

It was a while before either of them caught their breath, and Brandon had that water bottle over where Nathan could get at it before they were much inclined to speak. Nathan gave him an appreciative little nod and took a long drink, exhaling softly when he was done. Brandon took a drink himself, then quickly stripped out of his clothes and helped Nathan into bed. Nathan curled up with him -- Brandon seemed to expect it -- and relaxed against his side. The ache was easing off a good bit by now, and he'd have a lot to say when they got together to discuss this one. But what the hell; for the moment, it was easy enough to stay quiet and get some rest.


	5. What Did You Just Call Him?; That's A Plan

Phone tag sucked; no two ways around it. Nathan and Sean had been trying to get in touch with each other for two weeks -- how the hell it had been two weeks since they'd even spoken, Nathan had no idea -- so he'd marked out this whole damn day to get in touch with Sean. Come hell or high water, he was at least going to get Sean on the phone.

Luckily, it didn't take that long. Sean picked up at nine in the morning, mumbling something about pancakes and barbarians, which Nathan assumed meant he wanted pancakes if he was going to be up this early and that Nathan must be a barbarian if he was awake and chatty already.

"You should talk," Nathan teased. "Tell you what -- come over and I'll make migas."

"Fuck you," Sean mumbled. "You're taking me out to breakfast."

"Okay, I'll take you out. Are you driving or am I?"

There was a pause, and Sean groaned. "I love this. You get me out of bed before sunrise--"

"--the sun's up, you're just hiding under your blankets--"

"--and make me shower and dress and come over and get you for breakfast. Gimme twenty minutes."

"Hey -- Sean, c'mon, I'd drive if you wanted. The car's clean."

"You always say that and I always end up picking old junk mail off my boots. Twenty minutes."

"How late were you up last night, anyway?" Nathan asked. "Nine's not that early for you. Not really..."

"Late," Sean answered. "Okay, you go ahead and meet me here, then. Ten minutes?"

"Sure."

"Are you still off-limits or is your contract over?"

Nathan paused, frowning. "Okay, first of all, it's _not_ a contract, it's just a friendly arrangement, and second of all, yeah, it's still going -- it's been almost three weeks, it's gonna be going for six."

"Damn. All right, I'll be dressed when you get here."

_Damn_, Nathan echoed mentally. _Yeah, 'damn' is the word for it._ Not that he needed to get fucked this morning, he was still pretty bruised from the night before, but two weeks was a long time to go without seeing Sean, and three weeks was a long time to go without touching him. _And we've got three more of this. I wonder if I can get Sean grandfathered in--_

"You still there?" Sean asked.

"Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I'm still here." Nathan chuckled. "Sorry, got kind of distracted. I was just thinking maybe I should call Brand--"

"Don't waste my time, Nate," Sean snapped. "Are you coming over for breakfast or not?"

_What the hell's up your ass?_ "Of course I'm coming over. I'll be right there."

He hung up before he could fuck up anything else.

~*~

Nathan let himself in and headed up to Sean's bedroom. He walked in on Sean getting dressed, still bare from the waist up, hair damp and slightly tousled. Two weeks had been good to him -- _has he been working out even more than usual?_ \-- and Nathan tapped at the doorframe to get Sean's attention.

Sean tugged a blue t-shirt on over his head and turned around as he pulled it down over his chest. "Hey," he said. He grabbed a pair of socks out of his drawer and sat down on the bed to get them on. "You made good time over here."

_I was in a hurry,_ Nathan thought, but it sounded weird put into words like that, so he shrugged. "It's not like it's that far," he pointed out.

"Well, it's nice you still remember how to get here."

Nathan frowned. "It hasn't been that long--"

"Two weeks? You're not _that_ wrapped up in the new kid, are you?"

"Hey, you--" It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that Sean hadn't been around, either, or they wouldn't have been playing phone tag, but he stopped, biting his tongue in a very literal sense to keep from saying anything to piss Sean off. "No, I'm not. He's a good kid, a very good kid, and he's going to be a great top, but I'm not 'that wrapped up' in him, no."

Sean shrugged. "I was just asking," he said. "C'mon. Breakfast awaits."

Nathan followed Sean downstairs and waited for him to get his boots on. He picked the ones with all the damned laces, of course, which made Nathan dig his hands into his pockets and look away. _Three more weeks. Grass is always greener._

"You all right?" Sean asked. Nathan looked back over at him; he was still adjusting the laces on that first boot, and he wasn't looking up. "You're acting a little odd today."

_I'm not the only one._ Nathan sighed. "I'm fine," he said. "You know, you do own boots that zip."

That did get Sean's eyes on him. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying -- if you're in such a damn rush to get to breakfast, you could've picked boots that _zip_."

"Are you offering to help me out with my boots? Because I was under the impression that was in a long list of things your novice doesn't want you doing with other people."

"Would you cut him some slack? He's new at this, but he's doing just fine. In fact--" and Nathan had no idea why he was going into detail like this, but it seemed important somehow-- "we did a boot worship scene last week, and it went great."

"Oh, _well_, then. Forgive me for casting aspersions." Sean got his other boot on in half the time of the first, somehow, and stood up. He grabbed for his jacket and pulled a spare helmet out of the closet, handing it over to Nathan. "Bike?"

"Bike sounds great." Nathan took the helmet and followed Sean out to the garage. It didn't take long for them to be on their way; Nathan was just glad he had the helmet as a buffer. He'd have been in trouble if he could smell Sean's soap and leather all at once. As it was, the rumble from the motorcycle and the way it felt having his thighs pressed up against Sean's was bad enough. _You're out of your fucking mind. It really is just because you don't have permission. If you had room to play, you'd have just given Sean a blowjob when you first got here and gotten it out of your system. Now calm the hell down and have breakfast with your friend._

Sean drove them to a mutual favorite, a pancake house he'd discovered a couple months back, and after they'd settled down in their booth, he started tugging his gloves off. "Listen, I'm sorry," he started, but Nathan was talking over him with "Look, I'm being a dick."

Sean laughed. "All right, I like your opening better than mine. You go first."

"I was trying to say--" Nathan paused as the waitress came up with menus and offered both of them coffee. Sean took her up on it; Nathan passed and asked for orange juice. "Sorry. I was trying to say I'm being a dick right now. The arrangement chafes just a little when I run into something I'd like to bend the rules for."

"And that happens a lot?" Sean raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Like you don't know what all those damn laces do to me."

"All right, my turn. I'm sorry, too -- I'm not used to being off-limits or going two weeks without seeing you. Maybe we should be making more of an effort, huh?"

"More of an effort for what?"

Sean's answer was interrupted by Nathan's orange juice, and they put in breakfast orders, too, which was enough of a break in the coversation that Sean waved it off by the time they were alone again. "I don't know. Just call me when you get a chance, okay? I'll try to be around more."

"Where _have_ you been?" Nathan asked.

"Oh -- mostly at the club, ironically enough."

"Someone in particular?"

"A couple different guys. Nothing serious."

_Good. Wait -- what the hell do I mean, good?_ "So nobody you're going to end up signing a contract with?"

"No..." Sean raised an eyebrow and held his coffee up, blowing across the surface to cool it off some. "Kind of ironic that you're getting touchy about me signing contracts, though, isn't it?"

"I'd just hate to have me come out of mine only to have you off-limits because of yours." Nathan shrugged. "I'm not asking you to hold off on it or anything, if you meet someone who strikes your fancy. I'm just saying."

"Fair enough." Sean took a couple of sips and set his coffee back down. "I've been meaning to ask something."

"Fire away."

"Why now? Why this kid? You've never wanted to be tied into a formal contract before--"

"--I'm not now, either--"

"--okay, okay, you're not, but this is as close as I've seen you, and it was more or less sight unseen, wasn't it? You had what, one conversation, one informal scene, and suddenly you're exclusive with this new guy for six weeks?"

Nathan shook his head. "Six weeks didn't seem like that long when we got started, and one scene was enough for me to figure out I could teach him something and have fun while I was doing it. Should I have talked it over with you first?"

He'd largely been joking, but Sean was taking him seriously, eyes locked on his and not saying anything at first. "You think that's out of line?"

This conversation was going all sorts of interesting places now -- interesting enough Nathan wasn't sure he was in the right restaurant. Or on the right planet. "What's on your mind?"

"I think you rushed things with the kid. I'm worried about you."

That was definitely not the answer Nathan had been expecting, and he had to laugh. "Relax," he said. "There's nothing to be worried about. Brand's a great kid, and he's taking really good care of me when we're scening. I'm not saying there's no room for improvement, because there's a lot of it, but we get along great and he's learning a lot."

"I understand what he's getting out of it. What are you getting out of it?"

"Are you kidding me?" Nathan laughed, trying to brush off the first half of that sentence. _What the hell do you mean, "I understand what he's getting out of it"?_ "Shouldn't that be the other way around?"

"All right, all right, I get it, and yes, the physical is very impressive. But if that's all you're after with him, aren't you worried about getting _him_ in over his head? The first time I had a serious partner when I was topping, I wasn't exactly looking to have him go anywhere when the contract ended."

"You think he's going to come out of this wanting more than six weeks?"

"I think it's a possibility you should be prepared for."

Nathan tapped his fingers on the tabletop, thinking back. "No," he said quietly. "It's not like that." He looked up at Sean. "It really isn't. I could see that happening with some guys, if something more than the top-bottom relationship is out there, but with him it's _not_. We get awkward when the scenes are over."

"Awkward how?" Sean asked. He frowned. "Is it bad?"

"No, no, it's nothing bad. It's just -- we're not trying to _date_, and that's really gotten obvious. I like what he does for me in-scene, and he likes playing with me, but it's nothing serious."

"Have you talked to him about that?"

"Talked to -- shit, Sean, it never even occurred to me until you brought it up, so when the hell was I going to develop an urge to talk about deep feelings and the future of our not-exactly-a-relationship?" Nathan would have laughed at that if Sean had so much as cracked a smile, but he didn't. Nathan frowned. "It's six weeks and then it's over. I never wanted it to be more than that."

Sean's shoulders relaxed; Nathan hadn't even realized they'd been tense until he saw them drop. This was getting stranger and stranger. Sean opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the waitress coming to take orders, and by the time she was gone again, Sean didn't appear to have much more to say.

"Let's just try not to drop off the face of the earth for the next few weeks, huh?" Nathan asked. "I don't like you getting weird on me."

This time Sean cracked a smile, and Nathan grinned back at him. "I'm not going to get any weirder than usual," Sean said. "Promise. But hey--"

"Yeah?"

"You're done, what, three weeks from Saturday?"

"Yeah."

"So three weeks from next Monday, come over and we'll get caught up. _Really_ caught up."

The way Sean said it sent a jolt down Nathan's spine and made him suck in a breath. It wasn't like they hadn't done that sort of thing in the past -- taken a day or two to get caught up after one or the other of them had a contract -- but it was the first time either one of them had made specific plans three and a half weeks in advance for it.

And it sounded good.

"Yeah," Nathan said, nodding. "Yeah, let's do that. That's a plan."


	6. Here's Some Thoughts; What Did We Just Do?

"Is it crazy if I've been looking forward to this conversation almost as much as I was looking forward to the scene itself?" Brandon asked. He sat down on Nathan's ancient, recently reupholstered Barcalounger and stretched his legs out. "I mean, don't get me wrong -- the scene was _great_. But I'm getting a lot out of the feedback, too."

Nathan set a pitcher of iced tea out on the coffee table, along with a couple of full glasses, and pointed at it. "Unsweetened," he said. "Iowa's not in the South, right?" He took a seat.

Brandon tilted his head and laughed. "No," he said, "no, it's a Midwestern state. I keep forgetting you're not from around here."

"I'm more or less from around here -- I just don't have all fifty states memorized and categorized. You tell _me_ where Winnipeg is."

"Manitoba. More or less smack in the middle, north of Minnesota."

Both of Nathan's eyebrows went up and stayed that way. "You've either been doing your homework or you're a geography geek."

"Geography geek. I can pinpoint all the countries on a world map." He grinned ear-to-ear. "But I have to do it to the tune of the Mexican Hat Dance."

This wasn't doing anything to get Nathan's eyebrows to go down. "I'm sure that makes sense in some alternate plane of reality..."

Brandon's grin faded a little, and he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "Never mind. Seriously, chalk it up to 'geography geek' and go from there. And unsweetened tea is fine. So where do you want to start?"

"Anywhere you like. I take it you're happy with how things went?"

"The blindfold was a killer idea. I loved seeing you react to things without being able to gear yourself up for them first."

"It's fun, isn't it?" Nathan smiled. "I think we could do more with that sort of thing, that sort of sensation-blocking play. You mentioned a while back a scene you did where you covered somebody's mouth..."

"Oh, that -- no, that was different." Brandon scratched at the back of his neck. "I mean, just a gag wouldn't do it for me. It's having my hand blocking out sound -- sort of getting in and taking that part of my sub over. If that makes sense. I have no idea if I'm explaining it well..."

"Well enough. And I can see where that'd be appealing, definitely. From my side, too." Nathan took his glass of iced tea and sat back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "I'd still be up for that, if you'd like to go there."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'd go there with you." Brandon raised his eyebrows. "Tell me about your end of the scene we did Tuesday, though. The zippers and the blindfold -- how did that work for you?"

Nathan could practically feel the zippers down his sides all over again, hearing Brandon ask about it. "It went all right, though I wouldn't have minded just a _little_ bit of warning before the zippers came off. Having you twist a pin or get your hand on the string for a couple of seconds beforehand. The mental rush from the blindfold is all the element of surprise I needed, so having the zippers come off as an all-of-a-sudden thing was a little much."

"Is that the kind of thing that'd be universal? Or do you think there are subs out there who'd like the full shock value of having them ripped off that way?"

"Oh, I'm sure there are guys out there who play that rough." Nathan lifted a finger off the rim of his glass and pointed it towards Brandon. "You're starting to give me the impression that you'd like to be doing all of this a little rougher than we've been. How accurate an assessment is that?"

"It's, um." Brandon rubbed his palms down his thighs. "It's pretty accurate. But I want this to be good for you, too, so I don't want to be pushing you for things that are over the top."

"I appreciate that. Especially given the fact that I'm _not_ an edge player, not for the most part. Do you want to think about finding someone else to scene with? Someone who does want to get pushed further?"

"What, right now? I don't think I'm ready for that." Brandon shook his head. "I feel like I'm still getting used to seeing what the human body can do -- I don't want to have the training wheels taken off yet."

"You'd rather learn to play in an arena where there are limits first."

"Yes." Brandon looked so serious, so earnest -- it was a pretty cute look on him, as incongruous as the word "cute" felt when applying it to a kid who was almost 6'4" and talking about wanting to play rougher than Nathan was comfortable with. "Honestly, though, I'm not sure -- it seems like there's going to have to come a point where I learn on my own, rather than getting guidance from my sub. Sooner or later I'm going to want to control the pace myself rather than doing so much give-and-take feedback."

"That's partly experience, partly style. I _like_ give-and-take feedback. It doesn't matter who I'm with, whether it's you or Annie down at the club or Sean--"

"--hang on, I don't get the reference. Who's Annie?"

"Oh." Nathan grinned. "Annie's a domme in her mid-50s who's been topping for twenty years. I've scened with her a number of times since I moved to L.A.. She's terrific. She's also got more experience than God, and a really clean record as far as taking care of her subs is concerned. And no matter how perfect her scenes are, I always take her out to coffee so we can talk them over afterwards."

"And Sean's your friend..."

"Sean's probably the guy I've scened with the most since I developed a real interest in submission." That was sort of an odd way to put it. Accurate, but odd. "And yeah, he's my best friend. He's about the only person I like to improvise scenes with -- we know each other well enough that that sort of thing can really work for us."

"How long did it take you to get to that point?"

"Christ. Years. At least three years. And it's still not perfect, but he reads me well enough that it doesn't have to be. We do a lot of give-and-take when it's not an improvised scene -- I trust him to keep me from topping from the bottom, and he trusts that I really do want him in control."

"So whether it's me or someone who's really good at this, you still want to make sure there's feedback..."

"Right. And that's what I mean when I say it's partly a style thing. Way on the other end of the spectrum, there are tops out there who'll come in, pin you to the wall, fuck you blind and leave you gasping, and there are subs who _want_ that kind of treatment." Brandon was squirming. Nathan raised an eyebrow. "That sounds good to you?"

"I don't know if I'd go that far with a sub, but it doesn't sound bad, that's for sure. Anyway, not the point. Actually, I don't remember what the point was. Where were we?"

"Talking about you wanting to play rougher. How about we try a scene where I'm giving you numbers that show you where my pain tolerance is? It'd be good for both of us -- you'd pick up some confidence that way, and I'd have a chance to show you where the boundaries are without you having to guess."

"That sounds like a good idea. Saturday work for you?"

"Saturday's fine." Nathan dug his PDA out of a pocket and grinned as Brandon did the same. "Two o'clock?"

"Sure." A couple of tandem screen-taps, and they were both finished. Brandon put his PDA back in his pocket; Nathan tossed his onto the coffee table. "Any other ground we need to cover about the last scene?"

_I think it's a possibility you should be prepared for..._ Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered just how in hell one brought up something like this. _Do I just ask 'hey, any chance you're getting more attached to me than I think you are?' What kind of stupid question is that?_ "Uh, hm... are you all right with the way we're ending scenes?"

"I've actually been meaning to ask you that. I never get the impression you want me to stay..."

"I never really get the impression you want to stay. Are we on the mark there, or...?"

"I kind of -- no, I don't want to stay. I mean, not like that. It'd be one thing if we were -- if it weren't for a scene, if it were just the two of us on our own, but no, I don't have any great urge to stay the night when we're scening. Is that all right with you?"

That was a whole lot of stumbling, and a lot of things that weren't quite out in the open. It was like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle. "It's fine by me. What do you mean, if it were just the two of us on our own?"

"Without the roles. If we weren't scening at all -- you know, we just spent an evening together or something."

_Shit._ "Is that something you're interested in?" Nathan asked.

"It's crossed my mind." Brandon leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "How about you?"

_Not exactly._ Boy, there was no way in hell he could say that and be tactful about it. "I tell you what--" No, that wasn't any help. He still had nothing.

Brandon was waiting to hear the end of that sentence, but after a few seconds, he got out of the armchair and headed for the couch, sliding a hand behind Nathan's neck and squeezing lightly. "I know you're not a fan of improvising," he said softly, "so you tell me if this goes somewhere you don't want it going."

The problem with trying to come up with a tactful way to tell Brandon _no, this isn't where I'm looking to go with you_ was that by the time Nathan had come up with two words strung together, Brandon's mouth was on his, and there was nothing to do but kiss him back. And the hell of it was, Brandon was a damn good kisser. It wasn't exactly a hardship to stay on the couch like that, letting Brandon kiss him. His hands went up to Brandon's shoulders, a pretty decent position to push him away or create some space if he wanted it, but then he was tipping sideways, sliding back on the couch, and Brandon was stretching out on top of him. Fully clothed and on top of him. After all the time they'd spent out of their clothes, _that_ felt pretty damned kinky.

Brandon wedged a thigh between Nathan's legs, and Nathan groaned into his mouth, spreading his legs and making room. His arms were around Brandon's neck now, and he rocked his hips up, rubbing his dick against Brandon's thigh. Brandon kept kissing him through all that, breaking away just long enough to get a breath now and then. He worked a hand under Nathan's t-shirt, rubbed a thumb over Nathan's nipple. Nathan jerked underneath him, eyes snapping open. _Jesus H. Christ, Nate, what the fuck are you doing?_

Brandon pulled far enough back to get a look at Nathan's expression. "You all right?" he panted. He flattened his hand against Nathan's chest. "What's the matter?"

"Sorry. It's nothing -- it's -- you're right, I don't like improvising. I think we better call this off before it goes any further."

"Okay. I'm sorry..." Brandon got his hand out of Nathan's shirt and climbed off him, sliding his hands down his jeans. Nathan sat up and straightened his clothes out, shoving his hands through his hair. "I guess that was a bad move -- I'm sorry, Nate. I don't want to fuck anything up here--"

"No, no, stop apologizing. You don't need to apologize for anything -- I just wasn't expecting something like this. The idea of fooling around with you out-of-scene is sort of a new one, you know?"

"Good new or bad new?"

Nathan had to think about it, and frankly, his dick had something to say about the matter. _We're not talking about getting involved here. We're talking about fucking around. Big difference._

"Good new," Nathan said, "but let's not rush, all right?"

"Sure. I understand." Brandon took a deep breath and exhaled it through his teeth. "Should I go? Give us both a little time to cool off?"

"You don't have to--"

"Stop trying to say whatever you think is best for me and just be honest." Brandon dug his hand into his pocket and got his car keys out. "_I_ want to go. All right?"

"Yeah." _Wow, way to make this an awkward afternoon. Good job, Nate._ "Listen, I'll call you tomorrow, okay? Before we get together again."

"That's a good idea. I'll talk to you then." The corners of Brandon's mouth turned up a little. "It was good to see you. And I did like the talk."

"Good -- it was good to see you, too."

Brandon let himself out, and Nathan groaned and stretched out on the couch again, dropping one arm over his eyes. _You, mister, are a grade-A moron sometimes. And what the hell is wrong with having great out-of-scene sex with someone as hot as Brand?_

His phone rang, and he sighed and dug it out of his pocket. Probably Brandon looking to say something else. He flipped the phone open and answered. "Brand?"

There was a couple seconds' silence, and then Sean answered, "No."

_Oh, for fuck's sake._ "Sean. Hi."

"If you're waiting for a phone call, I can call back later--"

"You just fucking love being right all the time, don't you?"

More silence. "What's going on?" Sean asked.

"About Brandon. And whether he's after something out-of-role or not. You just have to be right all the goddamned time, don't you?"

"Nathan, calm down. What happened?"

"Nothing. _Nothing_ happened." _I kicked a twenty-six-year-old who wanted to screw me six ways from Sunday out of my house for no apparent reason._ "But you can congratulate yourself if you want. You were right about Brandon. He's more interested in me than I thought he was."

"Oh." There were more pauses on Sean's end of the line than Nathan was used to, and it was starting to bother him. "Well, congratulations--"

"No, don't fucking congratulate _me_." Nathan sat up. "You know, I do like him. He's a good kid, and I like him just fine. But I was getting along great before you brought up the idea of whether he was going to want more than just the top-bottom relationship, and now who the hell knows what he's thinking."

"Do you want me to come over?"

_Yes._ "No. I'm fine -- I just need a cold shower or something." A drink. A drink sounded good. "Listen, I'll call you back later when I'm not in such a shitty mood."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Sean said dryly. "Sorry for -- well, whatever it is I need to be sorry about. I'll catch you later."

"Later."

Nathan hung up and dropped his phone on the coffee table. He collapsed on the couch again and sighed. A cold shower wasn't going to do much at this point.

He closed his eyes and got his pants undone.


	7. Three's Good To Start With; You Didn't Half Kill Me

Getting Brandon on the phone after the awkwardness of Thursday morning's chat and unexpected makeout session was good. As soon as Brandon picked up, Nathan relaxed some. The talk was light, the plan for the scene was still what they'd discussed on Thursday -- a ramping-up scene with a number scale -- and by the end of it Nathan was looking forward to the scene again. Looking forward to seeing Brandon again, which was even more important. Neither one of them brought up the idea of out-of-scene contact, which was a relief. Nathan figured it'd come up again sooner or later, but right now "later" sounded just fine by him.

Sean was another story. Nathan thought about calling him back on Friday, but never got around to it. Snapping at Sean might not have been his best idea, but he'd been irritated at Sean for being right about Brandon's feelings, not to mention horny and frustrated. Jerking off afterward hadn't helped much. It was a bad combination, and he wasn't sure he was up to apologizing and making nice just yet.

So Saturday rolled around and Nathan was ready for the scene. He got to the club, and the receptionist let him know Brandon was already upstairs waiting. He checked his watch -- he was ten minutes early. "He hasn't been here that long, has he?" he asked.

"He went upstairs about ten minutes ago," the receptionist answered.

"That's the double-edged sword of having a punctual sub, isn't it?" Nathan asked. "You end up having to be everywhere early." He grinned, the receptionist grinned back, and he headed upstairs.

He let himself in and waited while his eyes adjusted to the lower light levels. Brandon was standing in the center of the room, grinning at him. "Hello there," he said. "How are you today?"

"Pretty good," Nathan answered, coming forward and straightening his posture. "How are you, sir?"

"Just fine. I've been looking forward to this." Brandon looked Nathan over; Nathan was in the same clothes as usual, white t-shirt, jeans, leather jacket. Nothing fancy, though one of these days they'd probably end up doing a scene that called for something more dramatic. Nathan took the opportunity to look Brandon over, too. He'd been wearing more leather lately, quite a bit more leather, and today was no exception. Leather chaps over blue jeans, black t-shirt, those motorcycle boots Nathan had had his mouth all over a week and a half ago.

_You've been looking forward to this?_ Nathan thought. _Hell, I'm the lucky one here._

"All right, let's get started," Brandon said. The sense of self-confidence behind it made Nathan straighten up a little more, sliding into a parade-rest form of attention and getting his eyes up but not focused on Brandon. He could still see Brandon out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn't making eye contact anymore. He could see well enough to catch Brandon grinning, though, which was a good sign. It was always flattering as hell knowing a kid this good-looking was impressed with him.

Brandon walked around behind him and ran a finger over his collar. "Let's get your jacket off," he said. "Put your arms down, boy."

Nathan did as ordered, and Brandon got a hand into the back of Nathan's collar and jerked it down. Nathan grunted softly as the jacket came off and Brandon tossed it aside. "Arms back up," Brandon said. Nathan went back to parade-rest, arms behind his back, hands clasped lightly together. Brandon ran his hands up Nathan's arms, up to his shoulders, and squeezed. "Nice," he murmured. "You know the plan for today, boy. It's very simple. One toy. No distractions."

He was getting more comfortable with titles, Nathan realized. It didn't sound out of place on him, either. "Yes, sir," Nathan murmured. _All right, we're doing it with speech; let's go all the way._ "Please, sir, how can I serve you?"

Brandon's grip on his shoulders tightened for a split-second, then eased. He pressed his thumbs in and made small circles with them, rubbing at Nathan's shoulders and moving his way up to Nathan's neck. "Breathe easy, boy," Brandon said quietly. "We're not in a hurry."

"Yes, sir." Nathan couldn't help groaning; Brandon had nice hands, and the light massage felt good. Breathing easy was an order he had no trouble following. "Thank you, sir."

"Mmhm." Brandon kept it up and moved towards the outsides of Nathan's shoulders. Nathan could actually feel himself relaxing, his shoulders lowering as the leftover tension from the last few days eased out of him. "Good boy," Brandon murmured. "You feel amazing." He leaned forward and kissed the side of Nathan's neck, then bit down lightly. Nathan sucked in a breath; his cock was starting to get hard now, and he was definitely interested in more of that. He leaned into Brandon's teeth, and Brandon bit down harder. Brandon's hands moved down Nathan's chest, fingertips sliding under Nathan's waistband, and he pulled Nathan tight against him. "Let's get you undressed," he murmured, already working the hem of his t-shirt up and over Nathan's chest. Nathan raised his arms over his head, and Brandon stripped the shirt off him, wrapping one arm around Nathan's chest and sliding the other to his crotch when he was done. He gave Nathan's cock a nice firm squeeze, and Nathan moved his hips forward, trying to get more contact.

"You like that?" Brandon asked.

Nathan groaned softly and nodded. "Yes, sir, feels very good, sir," he whispered.

Brandon popped the button on Nathan's jeans and undid the zipper, reaching in and getting his hand on Nathan's cock. Nathan pressed his hips forward again, groaning more. "Please, sir -- God, yeah -- please, more?"

"You sound so good when you're saying _please_," Brandon whispered. He adjusted Nathan's cock, sliding it free of his jeans, and gave it a couple of slow, firm strokes. "Say it again."

"_Please!_ Sir," Nathan panted, trying to push his hips forward again. This time Brandon's grip on him tightened, pulling Nathan back against his chest and thighs, and he nipped the side of Nathan's neck again. Nathan gasped and tried to move his ass backwards; he could feel Brandon's cock, nice and hard already, and even this early in the scene he wanted to feel it inside him. "Fuck, sir, please -- please, just -- just more," he managed.

"Oh, you sound as good as you feel," Brandon murmured. Nathan could feel Brandon grinning against his neck. "Do you know how good you're going to sound when I'm hurting you, boy?"

He punctuated that question with a twist just under the head of Nathan's cock that almost made Nathan's knees buckle. Nathan gasped, and followed up the gasp with an answer to the question -- probably unnecessary, but he'd been asked a question, and he wanted to give it an answer. "Hope I sound just as good, sir," he groaned. "Please, sir, want you hurting me so damned bad--"

"Not half as much as I want to be hurting you," Brandon said. Another time, Nathan might have disagreed, but no -- from the tone in Brandon's voice, Nathan could hear how hungry Brandon was for this scene. That gave Nathan a nice sense of accomplishment, the feeling that he'd inspired that kind of desire from his partner; he was ready to do whatever it took to make the scene pay off for both of them.

Brandon turned his head slightly and bit Nathan's shoulder, and Nathan moaned for him. "Sir, please--"

"_Yes._ Get your shoes off, boy. Leave the jeans for now." He let Nathan go, finally, but he stayed close in case Nathan needed support.

Nathan was fine, though, and he gave Brandon another "Yes, sir" before dropping to one knee and getting shoes and socks off. Brandon slid a hand through Nathan's hair as he finished up; Nathan took the hint that he should stay on his knees until told otherwise. Brandon moved around in front of him, filling Nathan's field of vision with leather-clad thighs and the outline of his cock under denim. Nathan licked his lips. "Sir, is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.

"Oh, there's a lot you're gonna do for me," Brandon said. He tightened his grip in Nathan's hair and dragged his face forward, rubbing it against his cock. Nathan didn't bother trying to give it a swipe with his tongue; this was about Brandon taking over and using Nathan's body, and he was fine with that. Brandon pushed him back, and Nathan let his weight rest on his heels. He slid his hands behind his back and looked up at Brandon with a grin. Brandon grinned back.

"Are you ready to hurt for me, boy?" Brandon asked.

"Yes, sir!"

"Let's get you on the cross."

Brandon helped Nathan up, and he kept a hand on the small of Nathan's back as they moved over to the cross. He buckled cuffs onto Nathan's wrists and ankles; Nathan put his forehead against the support and breathed in the scent of leather. Leather and just the faintest hint of the soap used to clean it, the oil used to maintain it. It was a good, clean smell, and it pushed him that much further into headspace; the urge to do more, _give_ more, was getting bigger all the time.

He would have spread his legs further apart when Brandon slid a hand down the back of his jeans, but the cuffs on his ankles held him down. Brandon rubbed two fingers into his cleft and pressed lightly at his hole, working just the tips of those fingers into him. Nathan's cock jerked, and he rubbed up against the cross. He was leaving smears of precome against it, and he could imagine licking it up after all this was over; the image was good enough to make him groan.

"You're going to look so good with your shoulders all red for me, boy," Brandon murmured. "Talk to me. Tell me how you're doing."

Nathan swallowed hard, pulling his thoughts back into order. "I'm so ready for this I can barely see straight, sir," he said.

"Are you still ready to give me numbers?"

"You bet, sir."

Brandon chuckled and slid his hand back out of Nathan's jeans. "Good boy," he said, rubbing both hands up and down Nathan's back. "Let's get started, then." His hands left Nathan's back, and Nathan heard him moving towards the bed; a couple of seconds later, he heard tails moving through the air as Brandon got used to the feel of the toy he'd be using tonight. "I've used this one on you before," he said, draping the tails over Nathan's shoulder and letting them slide down his back. "Deerhide. Black and red."

"I remember it, sir," Nathan said. The tails on that particular flogger were around two feet, half an inch thick, capable of delivering a nice solid thud. Nothing that'd leave Nathan incapacitated, but Brandon was strong enough to make it hurt like hell if he wanted to. It also still had that new-leather smell, which was making Nathan's mouth water.

"All right." Brandon brushed the tails over Nathan's other shoulder; Nathan could hear him taking a nice deep breath. "I'm going to start out slow; call numbers for me at your own pace."

"Yes, sir."

The first stroke made just enough contact to notice; they'd played with floggers enough that Brandon should know what the response on that one was going to be. "One, sir."

"Good boy." Brandon gave him another half-dozen at that level, moving from one side to the other. It felt great -- more like a mssage than anything -- and Nathan settled down, relaxing from head to foot and breathing easier.

Brandon upped the impact a hair, edging from one to two, and Nathan hummed with approval. "Two, sir."

"Still feeling good?" Brandon gave him another stroke. Nathan practically purred, and Brandon chuckled. "All right."

He stayed there a few more strokes, just enough for Nathan to get used to them, and then went a little harder. "Three, sir."

"Nice. This is where I'd like to start for ordinary warmups."

"Mmm. I'd have... no objections... sir," Nathan said, taking slow breaths between the strokes. "Feels good."

"Seems to give me a lot of room to go harder, too." Nathan didn't need to look behind him to sense the grin on Brandon's face. "Let's do that."

"Yes, sir!"

It was less a gradual rise and more a matter of taking a dozen, maybe a couple dozen, strokes at one level and then making a strong move for the next number. Nathan wasn't sure whether that was intentional or accidental; a gradual rise made it harder to call numbers, but the sudden step up could be a little jarring. After a half-dozen strokes at six, Brandon stepped in close and slid his hand over Nathan's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Talk to me," he murmured. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, sir," Nathan murmured back. "Nice and warm."

"Are you feeling rushed?"

"No, sir." Nathan tilted his head to the side and rubbed his cheek against Brandon's hand; Brandon trailed his fingers up the side of Nathan's neck and slid them through his hair. "Mmm... thank you, sir, feels good."

Brandon kept the casual contact up; Nathan rubbed against Brandon's fingers when he trailed them over Nathan's cheek. "You're jumping a little when I go up a notch. Should I be moving up more slowly?"

"No, sir. A little warning might help, if you wouldn't mind giving it."

"Of course." Brandon gave Nathan's shoulder another light squeeze. "Let's get some color on your shoulders. I'm going to go back to a five for a bit. I'll tell you when I'm going up."

"Thank you, sir!" Nathan dropped his head against the support and steadied himself; Brandon stepped back so he could get started again. The stroke was exactly where he'd promised, right in that "five" range, and it was fairly impressive that he could go right back to that level -- it showed a nice awareness of his body and his toy, the kind of thing Nathan might have expected him to have trouble with this early on.

After a handful of strokes, Brandon said, "Moving up to a six, boy," and Nathan got two more strokes at five before the next one came down harder. It was higher than a six -- all right, Brandon's muscle memory wasn't quite as good as Nathan had given it credit for.

"Closer to a seven, sir," he said. The next stroke was lighter, and the one after that came down at a similar level. "Six, sir," Nathan said.

"Thank you," Brandon murmured. "Don't be afraid to clarify things for me."

"I'm not, sir. But thank you for the reassurance."

"Any time." Brandon kept the flogger moving, and the light burn felt fantastic. It was hard enough to be relaxing, with just enough pain to keep his cock hard and the rest of his body hopeful. "Moving up a tick." Two more strokes and Brandon was solidly in "seven" territory, and Nathan let him know it. "Good boy," Brandon murmured. "You'd end up the nicest shade of red if I stayed here. Do you like it at this level?"

"Yes, sir!" Nathan panted. "Yes, sir -- like it a hell of a lot, sir."

"I'm going to move up long enough to find out where eight, nine and ten are, but we'll be coming back to this. For now, though... moving up again, boy."

"Yes, sir!"

Eight was hard enough Nathan wouldn't want to stay here for any great length of time, so he was glad Brandon had said they'd be going back to seven. Getting the limits sketched out was good for both of them, though; good for Brandon to know how hard he could feasibly push, good for Nathan to know Brandon would have a strong idea of his limitations. The last thing he needed was for Brandon to start seeing him as superhuman; Nathan was capable of taking a lot, but he wasn't the pain slut some people around here were, and there were kinks he'd never be able to dive headlong into.

Brandon gave him the warning, then went in harder, up around nine now. These were getting harder to take, and Nathan took long, deep breaths to guide himself through it. Nine didn't last long, and when they got to ten, it was only four strokes; Brandon eased back down to about an eight over the next half-dozen strokes. Just as well; pushing that hard against his limits, Nathan had a hard time relaxing into it and enjoying the pain. He stopped again and stepped close, putting a hand on Nathan's hip. "You're doing great, boy," he said, giving Nathan's hip a squeeze. "Talk to me. Still want more?" He slid his hand up Nathan's back and rested it lightly on his shoulder.

"Yes, sir, please!" Nathan straightened up, flattened his hands against the supports. "Please, sir, I'd like more."

"Good boy." Brandon pressed himself against Nathan's back, and Nathan groaned -- Brandon was nice and hard, warmer than usual from the workout -- and there were too damned many layers of clothing between them. Nathan was sweating lightly; he could smell Brandon's sweat, too. "God, I like hurting you," Brandon growled, and Nathan jerked back against him, unable to get more than a moan out. "Let's get some color on your shoulders, boy."

"Yes, sir!"

He started up again, and Nathan called out the number for the early strokes -- "five, sir" -- then relaxed and let himself enjoy the trip from five to six to seven. The abrupt jumps from number to number were gone now; it was a steady climb up two numbers, and Nathan checked in to let Brandon know when he'd moved into new territory. Six strokes past seven, he held steady and started moving a little faster, one shoulder then the other, nothing as smooth as Sean could do when he was really going at it, but damned good for a beginner.

Even so, there were occasional beginner moments -- like having the tails wrap over the top of Nathan's shoulder. He jerked, head drawing forward, and bit out a curse. The next stroke didn't quite land, tails brushing against him as if Brandon had tried to stop as soon as he'd seen the reaction -- just not quite fast enough to hold the next blow back altogether. Brandon reached in, hand on Nathan's hip again. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine, sir," Nathan said. He panted until he got his breath back; Brandon stayed with him, keeping contact with his hip. "Sorry, sir. You came in a little high. Wrapped a little."

"Shit. I'm sorry." Brandon gave a small lick to the sore spot on Nathan's shoulder, or close enough, anyway, and rubbed his thumb over Nathan's hip. "I'll be more careful," he promised.

"You're doing fine," Nathan said. "Just takes practice."

"Do you want a longer break?" Brandon asked. "A little time to pull yourself together after that?"

_I got stung, Brand, you didn't half kill me._ Nathan shook his head. "No, sir, I'm good to go. Please? You felt fucking incredible, sir..."

"You look great." Brandon ran his fingertips over Nathan's shoulders, and Nathan hissed softly, squirming against his cuffs. Brandon pressed a little harder, and he sounded a lot more confident when he started talking again. "You've been doing such a good job for me, boy. You sound hot as hell when you're hurting."

"Thank you, sir," Nathan said, pressing back against Brandon's fingers. "Feels so damned good -- more, sir, please? Please..."

"Love the way you sound when you're begging, too," Brandon said. He licked Nathan's shoulder again and then stepped back. "Here we go, boy."

Nathan closed his eyes and held himself steady as Brandon got started again. It took him a while to get into rhythm again, but this time through, his placement was good and the weight of all those strokes was perfect. It wasn't often he got a scene where his top just wanted to focus on one spot like this, and it made him think he'd have to ask Sean about doing scenes like this when the six-week period with Brandon was over. Maybe with something a little heavier.

Behind him, though, Brandon was doing a damned fine job. Nathan's groans were enough of a guidepost to keep him going at just the right weight, just the right speed, until both Nathan's shoulders felt tight and the burn was perfect. He lost track of how long they stayed at that point, but it was a while. Not long enough for Brandon's arm to give out, though; and as he slowed down and eased off, his control was still dead-on. _Very, very nice,_ Nathan thought, words feeling fuzzy at the edges. "Thank you, sir," he murmured.

"You don't think I'm done with you, boy, do you?" Brandon asked. He came up behind Nathan, ran his hands from Nathan's shoulders to his wrists. "You've been so good tonight. And now I'm going to fuck you."

_Oh, God, yeah!_ Nathan managed a nod and swallowed; his tongue was a little thick in his mouth, but he needed to get words out. "Please, sir!"

"Good boy," Brandon said. He got Nathan's ankles unbuckled first, then his wrists, supporting Nathan's arms as he brought them down to his sides. Nathan leaned hard on Brandon as they headed for the bed, and Brandon bent him over at the waist, getting Nathan's arms down on the mattress. Nathan's jeans came down just far enough, just to his thighs, and he had to resist the urge to sink facefirst into the bed. It would have been easy as hell to collapse and just let himself be used right now.

Brandon wasn't waiting, though, and definitely didn't have any intention of taking it slow; he slicked up his fingers and drove them into Nathan's ass, twisting, giving him just enough lube for a nice hard ride. Nathan spread his thighs out as much as he could, and with a three-second delay to get a condom on, Brandon started pushing in, hands on Nathan's hips as he moved inside inch by inch.

"Open up," Brandon panted. "Open up, boy, c'mon, take it--"

Nathan moaned and shoved back. He braced his arms and made fists in the covers, trying to take more. Brandon felt bigger than ever tonight, and it was exactly what Nathan needed. "Please, sir," he moaned, and then just more of the same: "please, sir, oh fuck, yeah, please, sir, _please_!"

Brandon gave one last hard shove, and he was all the way in, his thighs pressed tight to Nathan's. "That's my boy," Brandon growled, one hand coming up and resting on Nathan's shoulder. Nathan hissed and arched up into that touch, and Brandon squeezed hard, pulling back and slamming back in as his grip tightened. This was going to be rough, good and fast and rough, and Nathan tilted his head back and moaned. Brandon held on hard as he started up, pushing in so deep with every thrust that Nathan had to work to keep himself from getting shoved flat.

After a while, though, his thighs were trembling and his arms were aching, and he lowered himself to his forearms so he could keep his balance. Brandon didn't mind; he just kept going, squeezing Nathan's shoulder, burying himself deep, those hot little growls coming out every few strokes. It was amazing; Nathan just needed a little more... "Sir?" he panted. "Sir, please..."

Brandon shoved in deep and put both hands on Nathan's shoulders; Nathan yelled out something, maybe another plea. "What do you need, boy?" Brandon asked.

"Sir, please, let me touch myself?"

Brandon groaned and ran his hands over Nathan's shoulders, then trailed them down his back and got them on his hips. "Do it," he growled. "Get yourself off. _Now._"

Nathan didn't need to be told twice. He balanced himself on one arm and got the other underneath him, hand wrapped around his cock and moving fast. Brandon picked up the pace again, fingers biting into Nathan's hips, and within a matter of seconds, Nathan was shooting all over the bed and shouting out hoarse, incoherent sounds, all while Brandon kept fucking him like he was never going to stop. Nathan couldn't keep himself upright anymore; he collapsed and groaned as Brandon kept going, a few last pounding strokes until he was coming, too, pinning Nathan flat to the bed and letting out a few guttural sounds of his own.

He came down on top of Nathan once he was done, braced just high enough up that Nathan could still breathe. Nathan had a feeling neither one of them was going to want to move anytime soon. He was the first one to get words out, though: "Jesus, Brand. That was..."

Brandon grunted and nodded against Nathan's shoulder. He made an affirmative noise, but didn't seem inclined to go anywhere. It made Nathan grin.

"If you let me up, I'll go get us some water. We can pass out with a little more dignity."

Chuckling softly, Brandon shook his head. "I don't--" He coughed and took a deep breath. "Jesus. I don't feel the least bit dignified just now. I feel _great_."

"Me, too. Let me go get that water, huh? I don't want you getting dehydrated."

"Okay." Brandon slid off Nathan with obvious effort and rolled over, slinging an arm over his eyes. Nathan gave him a friendly squeeze on the bicep, shucked his jeans off, and headed for the minibar, picking up a couple of bottles and wincing at the burn in his shoulders, the ache in his ass. By the time he got back, Brandon was propped up on his elbows and frowning.

Nathan climbed back into bed, stretching out on his stomach. "What's the matter?" he asked softly.

"It's just supposed to be the other way around. You should be passed out; I should be taking care of you right now."

"Oh, trust me, I'm not going anywhere else for a while." Nathan grinned at him. "You just looked like that one knocked the wind out of you pretty hard. I don't mind."

"_I_ mind," Brandon started. Nathan put a hand on his chest.

"Don't. Don't second-guess yourself or get crazy over what you should be doing. You're still new at this, and I'm here because I want to help take care of _you_. Relax for me now." Nathan kept his hand on Brandon's chest, waited while the tension eased out of Brandon's body and he was breathing a little easier. "Lie down," he murmured. "Close your eyes."

Brandon followed orders, and Nathan slid his arm over Brandon's chest, holding him steady. "It's all right," he said. "I'm right here."

"I know," Brandon whispered back. "I'm glad."

The bed was comfortable enough; the room was theirs for the rest of the afternoon. They didn't talk about it, and there was no particular decision to stay; they just didn't leave this time. Half of Nathan wanted to justify that to himself; the other half was too busy appreciating how good Brandon smelled to care.


	8. Let's Not Drop The Ball Here; Don't Be Too Nice

Nathan woke up to the sound of running water. He squinted, just barely managing to pry his eyes open, and glanced around.

It came back in a hurry, then. He'd spent the night with Brandon.

It wasn't like he'd decided _This is the night_, and it wasn't like it had been a big deal; Brandon had just seemed a little quiet, a little needy, after their scene. It was kind of odd, nothing he'd seen from Brandon before, but there was no way Nathan was going to abandon him when Brandon seemed hesitant, so after a nice nap, they'd ordered up some dinner and spent the evening chatting in a casual sort of way, even going so far as to head down to the espresso bar for a late-night cappucino. Decaf, actually.

It'd been on the tip of Nathan's tongue to say something like, "Well, it was a great night, catch you later," but then Brandon had cut in.

"Any chance I could get you to stay the night this time?" he'd asked.

_No,_ Nathan had thought, and then, _Don't be an asshole, Nate. Just say yes. It's not like he's asking you to bear his children._ "Sure," he'd said instead. "Do you mind if we get a room that's a little more functional for sleep? I don't think we'll be needing the cross for the rest of the night."

"Definitely not," Brandon had agreed, and he'd made the arrangements. Brandon hadn't really wanted to talk about whatever it was that had him wanting a little extra company for the night, which was fine by Nathan; he'd just figured Brandon needed time to decompress after the scene, that maybe there was something he wanted to talk about that couldn't wait.

It was that or face the possibility that there was more going on here than the kink, and given the choice, Nathan was going with door number one.

He blinked up at Brandon as Brandon came out of the bathroom. He had a towel slung low on his hips and his hair was tousled, strands falling over his forehead. He hadn't gotten to a razor yet, either; his face was shadowed with stubble. He looked great, and Nathan was too tired to kick himself for the way his cock was getting interested. He wasn't planning on doing anything about it, and he could blame the erection on having just woken up if he needed to.

"Morning," Brandon said. "Have you been up long?"

"Nah," Nathan mumbled. He scratched his fingers through his hair and licked his lips. A toothbrush sounded like one of the best ideas ever right now. "I'm not that great in the morning -- give me a minute to get showered and I'll be half-human."

"I'll order up coffee. Breakfast, too, if you want it."

"No breakfast yet, but that coffee sounds like a godsend."

Brandon nodded. "You go ahead and shower; I can shave later."

Nathan squelched the part of him that wanted to suggest _or not, and we can play with stubble burn_ and stumbled into the bathroom. _Yeah, let's wake up before you do anything colossally stupid._

The shower helped, and Nathan took the time to shave afterwards. Stubble burn was a one-way street, in his experience: it was one thing to get it from your dom, but something else for a dom to end up getting it on his thighs.

_...from "your" dom?_

Nathan blinked at himself in the mirror, jaw still half-covered in shaving cream. He exhaled carefully and kept going.

_That's my boy..._

He put the blade down. Brandon _had_ said that yesterday, hadn't he? Nathan sighed and finished shaving. Yeah, they were definitely going to have to talk. This was all going well, and they worked fine together, but possessive little things like that needed some negotiation.

_Negotiation, hell. He needs to know it's not going to happen._

He ran a comb through his hair and headed back out. Brandon had gotten back into his jeans -- leather chaps lying in a neat pile on the coffee table, which was a pity -- and was just pulling his t-shirt back on. The coffee cart was already there, one cup poured and cooling. Nathan grabbed the pile of his clothes that had been abandoned at the side of the bed last night and got dressed fast; that cup had his name on it, and he didn't intend to disappoint.

Brandon took a seat on the sofa while Nathan grabbed his coffee and blew on the surface, trying to get it cool enough to drink. "You need anything?" he asked Brandon between puffs. Brandon shook his head.

After about half a cup, Nathan could almost say he was awake. He was starting to notice how Brandon looked -- uncomfortable, nervous. Awkward. And still not bolting for the door. Nathan refilled his cup and headed to the couch, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table, facing Brandon. "Okay," he said softly. "What's on your mind?"

"Last night, mainly. How are your shoulders?" Brandon asked.

"They feel great. Still kinda tight, a little red -- I don't know if you took a look when I was getting dressed..."

"Not really."

_Ouch._ "I'll try not to let that bruise my ego," he joked, but Brandon wasn't grinning back. The smile dropped off Nathan's face as he realized there was something bigger happening here than the aftermath of sleeping together. "I'm fine," he said, more clearly, and he put his coffee down so he could get a hand on Brandon's knee and squeeze. "You did great last night. How was it for you?"

"Rough," Brandon admitted, running his hands through his hair and staying like that for a minute, hands clasped at the back of his neck, looking down at the floor between his boots. "I thought talking it out would make me feel better about it, but now I'm not so sure--"

"Maybe I'm not the one you should be talking to," Nathan offered. "Have you read up on top drop?"

"Of course, I--" Brandon looked up, expression full of surprise. "_Oh,_" he said softly.

"Yeah." Nathan squeezed his knee again. "There's a whole club full of people who either know what you're dealing with or who know someone who's been through it, so you're not alone right now. But I can understand if I'm not the one you want to talk to."

"It's not that. I mean, hell, you're the person I've talked to the most -- if I can't be comfortable talking to you, who _am_ I going to be comfortable with? I just..." Brandon shrugged and looked down at the floor again. "I don't want you to lose faith in me," he murmured.

"Hey." Nathan reached out with both hands, putting them on Brandon's shoulders and squeezing hard. "I won't. That's not gonna happen. But that's exactly why you need somebody else to talk to -- someone you can be honest with, without worrying how it's going to change what you've got with me. I want you to find someone, and I want you to do it today. All right?"

"Got any suggestions?" Brandon asked. He brought his hands up and rested them on Nathan's forearms, rubbing gently. It calmed him down; Nathan could feel the difference almost immediately. "You're the first person I've really spent any time talking to one-on-one. I've taken classes, but I'm kinda aimless here." He looked up again, almost back to smiling. "Sometimes I feel like I could use a mentor from the other side, you know? Someone who's been there from this end of things."

"I can put you in touch with a few different guys who'd be happy to talk to you," Nathan said. "And a mentor from the other side isn't a bad idea at all. For that matter, there's a lot we could do other than just one-on-one scening." He kicked himself mentally for not thinking of that sooner. There was no excuse for that other than the typical: he'd been thinking with his dick. "We should really get out to the club on a busy night sometime so you can meet people; you'd probably hit it off with a lot of different folks, some of whom would be better for you than I would on a lot of different levels."

Brandon's grip on Nathan's forearms went unexpectedly tight for a second. "You're not trying to get rid of me, are you?" he asked, grinning like it was a joke.

Nathan knew full well it wasn't. Right now, more than anything, he wanted to ask what Brandon had done that he thought was so awful, but chances were it was less about one specific action and more about the scene as a whole. In the absence of a quick fix, he leaned in and brushed his lips against Brandon's. "I'm not trying to get rid of you," he murmured. "Promise."

Brandon pulled him closer, arms going around Nathan's back, and kissed him again. Nathan was more than willing to give Brandon this kind of reassurance; God, the poor kid. He seemed to need it.

The kiss didn't stop right away, and Nathan realized he was going to start needing more than reassurance in a minute at this rate. They both would. He pulled back some and cleared his throat. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked softly. "I don't want to duck out on you without knowing you'll be fine, but I think going any further right now would be asking for trouble."

"You're right. I know -- you're right." Brandon slid his hands down Nathan's back, ran them from his hips to his knees, and Nathan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning. There were parts of him that were voting against cutting things off now, but he was damned if he was going to let himself get carried away. Reassuring somebody with sex was tricky enough at the best of times; between not knowing where they stood and Brandon's top drop, Nathan was pretty sure out-of-role sex would be like playing hockey on a minefield. Not a good plan.

"Let me have that list of names," Brandon said, breaking contact and pulling his PDA out of his pocket. Nathan was glad for the interruption to his thought process; he named half a dozen different guys, some tops, some switches, all of whom Nathan had spent some time with in the past, none of whom would freak out if a near-stranger called them up to chat.

"It's what, almost eleven o'clock?" Nathan asked. He nodded at the list in Brandon's hand. "Tyrone works in the leather shop downstairs on Sunday mornings, so he should be around if you want to meet someone face-to-face. It might be easier than just picking up the phone."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks." Brandon took a deep breath and gave his PDA a couple more screen taps, then put it away. "Are you heading off now?"

"If you're sure you're going to be all right, then yeah, I'll probably head off." He gave Brandon's knee one more squeeze. Reluctant to stay or not, he still couldn't abandon Brandon without being reasonably certain he had it together. "Do you need me here right now?" It wasn't the most graceful way of phrasing it, but he did try to make sure his tone wasn't implying anything, no censure if the answer was yes. He'd stay if Brandon needed him, and there was nothing wrong with that. Brandon just had to be willing to ask for it.

But he didn't; he shook his head and stood up. "I'll be fine," he said, as Nathan took to his feet as well. "Thanks for everything. For staying."

"Not a problem." Nathan gave Brandon a brief hug and a pat on the ass. "You call me when you're ready -- whether that's to talk about the scene, or just to talk, or if you want to get together -- in or out of role. Okay?"

Brandon looked a little startled by the breadth of the offer, but he nodded. "Okay," he said. "Take care, Nate."

"You, too."

~*~

Nathan was already heading toward Sean's place when he got his headset on and dialed his number. Sean picked up on the third ring, sounding awake and alert. Definitely a good sign. "Hey there. How are you?"

Caller ID was a wonderful thing, Nathan decided. It was nice knowing Sean wasn't holding a grudge after their conversation a couple of days ago. "Doing pretty good this morning. How are you?"

"Not bad myself. Where are you? You sound like you're driving."

"Yeah, I'm just heading home from the club."

"Early morning scene? That doesn't sound like you."

Nathan laughed. "It's not. It was more of a late-night scene."

For a minute Nathan thought he'd lost signal; he actually got the phone out of his cup holder so he could look at the display. He was still getting a strong signal, though, so that wasn't it. "Sean? You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, I dropped the phone. Anyway, so I guess it must have been a pretty big night, huh?"

"God, that's one way to put it," Nathan sighed. "Something about the scene gave him a little trouble. He was sort of clingy at the end of it, so we spent the evening together. Had a casual dinner, hung out at the cafe, that kind of thing, and then I spent the night."

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Not really, to tell you the truth."

"He snores?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It was just kind of weird. Anyway, I think he's going through a little bit of top drop. I'm not sure over what, it wasn't like last night was a very heavy scene, but I gave him some names and he's going to look for somebody to talk to."

"That's a good idea. The poor kid -- has he gone through that before?"

"If he has, it hasn't been with me. He hasn't been at it for very long, you know? I just wish I'd had a little more warning. It turns out he hasn't really been putting himself out there since we hooked up; he doesn't have a go-to guy for this kind of thing." Nathan sighed. "You know, if things were different, I might've told him to look you up. I kind of thought that might not be such a good idea, though."

"Why not?"

Nathan paused, frowning. _Okay... good question._ "Well -- you've been kinda weird about him."

"_I've_ been--?"

"Hey, I don't know what's going through your head, all right? I just know things feel kind of... weird. Anyway, none of that's really the point. I was calling because it's been a few days, and I thought we could maybe get together for lunch or something."

"I still want to know what you mean by 'weird'."

"This, okay? This right now. You're like a dog with a bone -- can you just let it drop about the weird thing?"

"No, I think we ought to have this out. You're saying I've been weird about Brayden--"

"--Brandon," Nathan corrected, and there was no way in hell he was going to point out that intentionally getting Brandon's name wrong was a _huge_ argument in favor of the "weird" thing, especially not when Sean was going on anyway.

"--Brandon, and I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Did I say anything about this thing of yours?"

"You said _plenty_."

Sean stopped. "Well. Okay. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't be willing to talk to him if he's having trouble. I'd do that with any friend of yours."

"All the same, let's not cross the streams right now, okay? I think that'd be opening this whole thing up to a new level of awkward, and he and I have been fighting off awkward on and off this whole time without adding you into the mix."

"Wait. Now I make things _awkward_ for you?"

"We are not fucking having this conversation, Sean," Nathan said, groaning. "We're not. You don't make things awkward for me. Shut up and get off the phone so I can come get you and we can get a burger or something, okay?"

"Yeah. Good idea. Sorry -- I didn't sleep much last night, either."

Nathan's head snapped forward hard enough his headset slipped partway off his ear. He reached up to adjust it and frowned hard. "What were you up to last night?"

"Nothing much. Hot scene at the club. I'm surprised I didn't run into you guys; I was in public play space."

"We were probably upstairs by then. Who were you scening with?" Nathan could have bitten his tongue. Sean's scenes were his own business, and he was feeling more and more hypocritical by the minute.

It took some of the tension off for Sean, though, because he laughed. "Nobody. An adorable twink named -- oh, God. Martin or Marvin or Marlon or something. Nobody I'm going to see again. Come on over; I'll be ready when you get here."

There was no reason that should've made Nathan feel better -- better if a bit on the stupid side -- but it did. "See you soon," he said, and he hung up. "What the hell is the _matter_ with you?" he mumbled to himself.

He'd more or less talked himself into not asking that question by the time he got to Sean's house, luckily. He let himself in and ducked his head into the living room. Nobody there. "Sean?"

"Upstairs. Bedroom," Sean called.

Nathan shrugged and headed up. He paused outside Sean's bedroom door, closing his eyes for a second. _Please, God, let him be dressed already._ "Hey--"

Sean was sitting up in bed, dressed -- that was good -- but only in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, which was less than good. Not because he didn't look hot that way -- Sean was inhuman like that, managing to look good even if he'd slept funny and his hair was sticking up in all directions -- but because it meant he hadn't showered yet.

Nathan swallowed hard. Maybe he could make some excuse about needing to go put gas in the car...

"Hey there," Sean said, interrupting his thoughts. He glanced up and grinned at Nathan. "That was quick. Were you nearby?"

"I just came straight here from the club. Quicker than going home."

"You should've gone ahead. I haven't managed to get myself into the shower yet."

"Yeah, I can see that." Sean's morning grin was infectious, even if Nathan had no idea what it was about. Something low in his stomach clenched uncomfortably as he remembered Sean mentioning his own late night. _Dude, relax. He's not seeing the guy again, right? No need to get weird about it._ "If you want, I can go home and change while you shower..."

"No, don't be silly. It won't take long." Sean pushed his laptop aside and stood up. He stretched, then stripped off his t-shirt and left it on the floor. His pajamas met the same fate as he walked toward the bathroom, and Nathan watched him walk off, casual as anything. "Tell me about your scene," Sean said over his shoulder. He started the shower going and peeled off his socks, tossing them back into the bedroom. "Did something go wrong?"

Right now Brandon and last night's scene were pretty far from Nathan's mind. He blinked a few times and shook his head. "Uh. No. Nothing went wrong -- you do realize it's pretty hard to have a conversation with a naked guy, right?"

Sean raised an eyebrow. "You haven't had a lot of trouble with that before."

Well, he had a point. "Usually we're _both_ naked and we're about to fuck, or we just fucked, or something along those lines. Come on--"

"Okay, okay, fair enough." There was that grin again. If Nathan didn't know better, he'd swear Sean had something to prove. Or was proving it. Sean reached into the shower, testing the water out, and apparently decided it was hot enough; he stepped in. "But you said nothing went wrong with last night's scene, right? So there's nothing in particular Brandon needs to be worried about?"

It was a lot easier to deal with Sean now that he was behind a shower curtain. Nathan reached into his jeans and adjusted himself, sighing with relief. _Asshole_, he thought, not without affection. "Uh, let me think. What he'd have to be worried about... he wrapped his tails once, misjudged how hard he was hitting me a couple times. But not in the bad way; just in the sense that he thought he was at about a four and I told him he was closer to a five. No limit-pushing or anything."

"Oh, scene with numbers? How'd that work out for you?"

"Just great, actually. He got a good idea of where the limits are, the right weight to stay at if he wants to make me crazy. I meant to talk to you about that, now that I'm thinking of it."

"Oh? How's that?"

"The whole scene was just my shoulders. Me calling out numbers while he was on my shoulders. I thought it might be fun to do something like that with you one of these days. Not that you don't know where my numbers are, but that kind of concentration... that was nice."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sean promised, and the tone in his voice made Nathan reach into his pants to adjust himself again. "He doesn't sound like a guy who minds correction. He isn't letting his ego get in the way of what you're doing?"

"No, not at all. Well, I didn't think so, anyway." Nathan frowned. "But if he's not talking to any tops and he's just working with me, maybe he is. I told him I wanted him to find someone to talk to today, though, and he said he would, so let's hope that was just an oversight and not a shape of things to come."

"Probably. We all go through that sort of thing at one point or another. The part where you think you have all the answers."

"I hear they give the answer key out with the top instruction manual," Nathan said, grinning. "Includes handy information like how to tell if your sub needs a good spanking and good phrases to use to make him drop to his knees and suck your cock."

"Very funny." The water cut off, and Sean poked his head out from behind the curtain. "Can you hand me a towel?"

"Sure." Nathan grabbed one off the heating rack on the floor and passed it over. Sean disappeared again, and Nathan glanced down at the rack. Damn -- he'd forgotten to turn it on. Well, the towel would get him dry whether it was heated or not. "I think he was holding back on me."

It was a few seconds before Sean replied. Probably drying his face off or something, Nathan decided. "Holding back how?" he asked after a moment. He pulled the curtain back and stepped out of the shower. That wasn't going to help Nathan keep his end of the conversation up; Sean was still damp, and perfectly unselfconscious about being naked in front of him.

It was just the slightest bit reminiscent of earlier this morning, though, seeing Brandon fresh out of his shower. Sean didn't look much like Brandon -- five years older, a head shorter, slimmer build, face much more angular. His beard didn't grow as fast, either; he'd shave, because Sean shaved every morning whether he needed it or not, but his face didn't have that five o'clock shadow the way Brandon's had.

He turned to the sink and started running water there, bending over to splash his face with it, reaching for the shaving cream. "Nate? You there?"

"What? Sorry." Nathan shook his head. "What did you ask?"

"You said you thought he was holding back on you. Holding back how?"

"Strength-wise. I got the impression he was a little bit surprised when he got up to ten with me. He could've gone a _lot_ harder, I've wrestled him enough to know that much."

"But he didn't."

"No, which is good. Four strokes at ten were plenty."

Sean chuckled. "Sounds like you. Well, that's all right, isn't it? Hook him up with someone who's got a deeper pain limit than you do and see how he deals with it."

"That does sound like a good idea. You know, I brought that up to him -- told him we ought to head for the club on a busy night sometime, so he could meet a few more people. Introducing him to a few other subs couldn't hurt anything."

"As long as he doesn't think you're trying to get rid of him."

Nathan winced. "He said that, too."

Sean stood up enough to look at Nathan in the mirror. "You're not, are you?"

"No! God, no. But it's not like this thing is going to end up being permanent."

"Does he know that?"

_He couldn't not,_ Nathan thought. He shook his head. "I assume so. We just haven't talked much about that."

Sean didn't respond. He finished shaving, wiped his face dry with a clean hand towel, finally turned around. There was a look on his face Nathan couldn't puzzle out, and Nathan ended up crossing his arms over his chest almost defensively.

"Nate--"

"What?"

"Just... don't be _too_ nice to the kid." Sean shrugged. "Nothing. None of my business, right?" He edged past Nathan into the bedroom so he could get dressed.

Nathan blinked at him as he went by, trying to figure out just what the _hell_ Sean was talking about. _Don't be too nice?_ "Right," he said. "I'll get right on that."

Sean rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Don't be so nice to him you forget about being honest." He tugged a blue turtleneck over his head and found a pair of clean boxers in his dresser. "Are you still thinking you're not going to keep seeing him once your six weeks are up?"

"Well, it's not like I'd never see him again. I'm still going to be around, he's still going to be around -- I'd love to see what he looks like in a year." He'd pictured that more than once -- Brandon with a year's confidence on him, a nice tightly-run boot worship scene, maybe something with a strap or a belt? God, that'd be worth the wait. "I'd never make him a promise I couldn't keep," he said. "You know me better than that."

Sean had gotten into jeans by then, and he walked over to Nathan, hooking his fingers through Nathan's belt loops and pulling him in close. Nathan slid his arms over Sean's shoulders, sighing as he dropped his head down and let his forehead rest against Sean's. This kind of easy physicality -- God, he'd _missed_ this. Sean wrapped his arms around Nathan's waist and exhaled softly, too; Nathan could feel Sean's breath against his lips.

Sean was the first one to break the silence; neither one of them was all too eager to move. "Listen," Sean murmured.

He wanted to; whatever Sean was going to say, he wanted to hear it. But it seemed important to _explain_ all of a sudden; to make Sean _understand_. "He's a really good kid," Nathan started.

Sean went stiff and pulled back. "I know," he said. Nathan frowned, but Sean was already back at his dresser, picking out socks. "Come on. Let's get that lunch."

Nathan rolled his eyes skyward for a second. _Christ, I'm losing it,_ he thought. _Either I can't read anyone worth shit anymore or everyone in my life's going crazy on me._ "Sure. I'll drive this time. My car's clean. Scout's honor."


	9. This Works For Me; Everything's Different Now

It was a couple of days before Brandon called Nathan, which worried Nathan some, but he wasn't going to push. Right now it seemed important to let Brandon take things at his own pace, and if it took a couple of days to get him comfortable enough to call, then Nathan could wait.

Still, when Nathan's phone rang and the display read "Brandon", Nathan let out a sigh of relief. "Hey," he answered. "How are you?"

Brandon chuckled. "Do you ever miss the days when a phone call had to start with a couple versions of 'hello' before you knew who was on the other end?" he asked.

"Not in the least. It's good to hear from you, Brand."

"It's good to hear your voice, too. I hope it wasn't too weird being out of touch the last couple days..."

"Not as long as you're doing better now," Nathan promised. "How are you doing?"

"Good. A _lot_ better, actually. I took your advice and looked someone up that I could talk to, and I've been hanging out with him the last couple of days."

"Oh, that sounds good. Who'd you end up going with?"

"Tyrone Chaffee -- the guy who works in the leather shop. It was weird as hell going up to a complete stranger and asking for advice, but he was really cool about it."

"He's like that." Nathan smiled. Of all the people he'd mentioned, Tyrone was probably the one he got along with best. As far as he was concerned, it was a great choice. "So what've you been up to apart from talking?"

"Ha -- well. I've seen him run a couple of scenes." There was something in Brandon's voice that implied he was having trouble owning up to something; Nathan's eyebrows went up. "I think it might be interesting rolling over for him. I haven't done anything with him _myself_, of course, I mean, we sort of agreed we weren't going to fool around with other people--"

"Relax, Brand, we're not married or anything." Nathan grinned. "So he interested you enough you'd like to try playing with him?" _And here I wondered if you were going to end up switching at some point in the future._ "It doesn't sound like a bad idea, and he _is_ a killer top."

"Oh, God -- I mean, it's not what you think, not really." Brandon chuckled; Nathan could hear nervousness in that sound. "The thing is, it's not the submission part that interests me. I just like the idea of being able to see what you're feeling from that side of things -- I think I'd have a little more confidence if I had a better idea of what I was putting you through."

"Well, first off, that's great to hear, and it's a tried-and-true method of learning the ropes. In more than one sense." Nathan grinned. "And second, I don't have any objections to that if it's something you'd like to try out. Do you want me to be there when you try it?"

"I don't think I'm ready to do anything just yet. I'm just -- I'm still thinking about it. And you talked about going out to the club on a busy night sometime, getting to know a few more people -- that sounds like a good idea."

"You're not trying to get rid of me, are you?" Nathan teased. He couldn't help it; after the way Brandon had reacted to the idea at first, it was funny seeing him make such a turnaround.

Brandon's response took the wind out of Nathan's sails, though. "I'm not letting you go anywhere if I can help it," he said. More like _rumbled_, voice low and growling, the kind of thing Nathan was used to hearing when he was on his knees or getting fucked hard. The fact that it got a Pavlovian response out of him didn't change the fact that it was a troubling thing to hear -- a damned troubling thing, considering Nathan had no intention of keeping things going after their six weeks were up.

_How the hell do I respond to that?_ he wondered, thinking back to Sean's advice. _Don't be so nice to him you forget about being honest. Yeah, thanks, Sean, but when was the last time you had to crush someone's feelings and then spend another two and a half weeks scening with him? It doesn't have to be now, right? We can talk about that later._

"I'm not anywhere right now," Nathan said, dropping his voice into its lower register, too. "I'm home alone. Where are you?"

"Hmm. At home. And it sounds like you could use something right at the moment."

"I wouldn't turn it down."

"Okay." Brandon took a deep breath, exhaled softly. "Find yourself a comfortable patch of floor. I'm going to put you on your hands and knees for this."

Nathan groaned, low in the back of his throat. This was going to be better than he'd expected. "Hang on. I think I want to be in the living room for this. The carpet's pretty soft there." He stopped long enough to snag a towel out of the laundry room -- hands and knees sounded like a position that could get messy if Brandon let him come -- and laid the towel out in front of the coffee table. He switched his phone to speaker and got himself into a kneel, knees on the edge of the towel, hands behind his back. "Okay -- I'm ready, sir."

"Talk to me about your position right now. Where are you, how are you sitting, where are your hands? I assume you're on speakerphone?"

"Yes, sir, I'm on speakerphone. I'm in the living room, in front of my coffee table. I've got a towel on the floor and I'm kneeling on the edge of it. My hands are behind my back, sir."

Brandon chuckled. "The towel was a good idea. It can be a pain in the ass getting come stains out of carpet."

"Yes, sir, it can." Nathan grinned.

"You're still dressed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go ahead and strip off for me. All the way down."

Nathan didn't take long doing it, and since Brandon wasn't there to watch, he left his clothes in a heap on the floor. He got back into position, spreading his knees wide. He was half-hard by now, and he wondered how Brandon was doing. Where he was sitting, where his hands were. "I'm stripped, sir," he said.

"Good boy." That got Nathan's cock a little harder. "Get yourself onto your hands and knees."

Nathan complied, head tilting down. "Yes, sir."

"Next time I see you I'm going to suck your cock."

Nathan let out a startled grunt and swallowed hard. His cock was very, very interested in that idea. "God, sir, that'd be fantastic..."

"I'm going to stretch you out on your back, cuff you down, and put clamps on your nipples. One of my hands is going to work the chain between those clamps, and the other one's going to be busy between your legs, fucking you with my fingers. And my mouth's going to be on your cock for all this."

That was one hell of a lot of coordination, but Nathan wasn't going to argue. He was just going to kneel here and get hard and pant for it. "Yes, sir, God, that sounds fucking amazing, sir..."

"I thought about gagging you. Getting a nice leather gag and letting you bite down on it when you're close. But I'd rather hear you beg."

"Oh, believe me, sir, I'd beg for that--"

"You're damned right you would." Another growl, and Nathan groaned in response. "Get your hand on your cock, boy."

Nathan let out a heartfelt moan of relief once he'd followed that order. "Yes, sir -- it's there, sir."

"Start working it for me. Don't let up unless I say to."

"Yes, sir!" Nathan spread his legs a little wider to keep himself balanced and started stroking his cock, nice long strokes that he figured would keep him well away from the need to come for a while.

"And feel free to make all the sounds you want. I want to hear how much this gets you off."

"Yes -- mm, yes, sir," Nathan groaned. He stepped up the noises some, nothing too theatrical, nothing that'd block out what Brandon was saying, but enough Brandon could definitely hear him.

"When I've got my mouth on your cock, I'm not going to be able to give you verbal orders, so I'll let you know beforehand -- you can come when you want, but the longer you hold out, the better I'll make it for you. You've never had my mouth on your cock, have you?"

"...ah, God -- no, sir, no, I haven't..."

"Do you think I'd be good at it?"

The way Brandon kissed? Jesus, he'd be a demon. "Yes, sir, I think you'd -- God -- think you'd be very fucking good at it, sir," Nathan panted.

Brandon chuckled. "Good boy," he murmured. "I don't do it all that often, but I enjoy the hell out of it when I do."

There were other things Brandon didn't do often -- like getting fucked -- and Nathan wondered if Brandon enjoyed the hell out of them when he did them, too. "That'd be so hot, sir," Nathan said between strokes. "Hurting for you -- watching you getting off on sucking me -- I'd beg until my voice gave out for that, sir."

"We might have to test that. I bet you're doing pretty well right now, though. Nowhere near an urge to beg. Am I right?"

Nathan laughed. "Just... got started, sir," he answered. "I'll get there."

"I'm sorry I'm not there to see this. I'm sure you look hot like that. Your hand on your cock, ass up in the air -- I'd probably want to take a seat on the couch and just watch you."

"I like being watched, sir," Nathan said. The idea of Brandon sucking him off and the idea of Brandon sitting on the couch watching him were fighting for the top fantasy spot in his head now; Brandon on the couch was winning by a narrow margin because it was closer to what was actually happening. "What would... what would you want to see?"

"Just you. But I'd want to push you to do this for long enough you're getting desperate. Long enough your hand's starting to feel like it's rubbing your cock raw, and you're making noise for me. Long enough you're sweating and your arm's shaking from holding you up."

"Jesus," Nathan panted. If this went on long enough, he'd end up exactly like that, which made him wonder for a moment whether Brandon just had an accurate imagination or if he'd seen something like this before. "Feels so good, sir..."

"Just keep going," Brandon murmured. "Just like that, boy."

Nathan did as ordered, and Brandon was quiet for a while. Nathan kept making sounds, giving Brandon the occasional curse, and he could hear Brandon making sounds in response. It was driving him crazy not knowing what Brandon was up to -- was he jerking off? Just watching? Where was he? Home? At the club?

But Brandon was getting what he wanted. After a few minutes of quiet strokes, Nathan's cock was starting to hurt, and the pressure from not coming was a dull ache in his balls. He wasn't quite shaking -- he'd put in too much gym time lately to be tired from this short a time balanced on one arm -- but he was starting to sweat.

"Talk to me," Brandon said, voice cutting into the silence. "How are you holding up?"

"Holding up all right, sir," Nathan answered. "But it _is_ starting to hurt, sir, and I'm sweating..."

"Christ, I want to be there right now," Brandon growled. "I want to be there, behind you, shoving you into the floor and getting my dick into you. Flattening you out while I make you take it. I want that so bad right now, boy..."

Nathan was so close it was starting to hurt not to come; the mental image and Brandon's growl were enough to make him cry out. Brandon moaned, and Nathan bit the inside of his lip, hard, trying not to go over. His cock was slick with pre-come now, and he rubbed it over his cock, the glide driving him even more out of his mind than he already was. "Sir, _please_\--"

"Come for me," Brandon growled. "Come right now, boy, come with my cock up your ass--"

Nathan threw his head back and yelled, cock jerking in his hand, streaking the towel with his come. By the end of it he was shaking, and he dropped facefirst onto the towel, panting, not caring that he was going to end up stuck to the damn thing when he got up.

There was nothing on Brandon's end of the line, though, no answering set of yells, and Nathan tilted his head up. "Sir...?" he panted. "Can I... do anything else for you...?"

"You did plenty, boy," Brandon said. He didn't sound particularly winded, and Nathan frowned. He definitely didn't sound like he'd come his brains out, unlike Nathan, who was lucky to be able to form coherent noises. "I'm guessing you're a little too wired now to chat about our last scene, so I'm gonna let you go now. You call me when you're ready to talk, all right?"

"Yes, sir," Nathan mumbled. He reached out vaguely and knocked the phone off the coffee table before getting his hand around it, thumb on the "end call" button. "It'll be soon," he promised.

"Looking forward to it. Talk to you later, Nathan."

"Later, Brand."

Nathan hung up and sighed, stretching out. He really shouldn't stay on the floor too long. A shower would be nice, maybe some food. Something. But the floor felt good, and taking ten minutes to catnap wouldn't kill him, either.

Brandon was a good kid. A really good kid. And for the hundredth or the thousandth time since they'd started seeing each other, Nathan felt smug as hell and lucky to have him.

~*~

"Brand, it's Nate. Give me a call when you get this; I've managed to find my brain again and I'm up for talking whenever you are. Later."

Nathan hung up and glanced around his kitchen. Food really did sound good; he just didn't have the faintest idea what he wanted. A pizza was pretty much the classic bachelor's _I-don't-want-to-cook_ food, but he wasn't in the mood for that. He'd pretty much eaten his weight in salsa this last week, so probably not that, either. He could grill something, he supposed. It wasn't really warm enough on the deck, but he could make do.

The phone rang a couple seconds into this line of thought, and he picked it up without looking. "Brand, hey--"

"Still not Brandon. Your eyesight's going, Nate -- have you had your prescription checked lately?"

_Oh, fuck me._ Sean again, and how many times had Nathan done this to him now? "Shit, I'm sorry. I just left him a message about two minutes ago, so I figured--"

"Yeah, understandable. Have you been in touch with him since that scene and his top drop?"

"Uh-huh. He called earlier today. It turns out he looked up Tyrone -- Tyrone Chaffee, do you know him?"

"God, who doesn't?" Sean answered. The tone of voice made Nathan raise both eyebrows.

"Uh -- right -- since when do you have an interest in über-tops like Tyrone?" Nathan asked.

"Since I got into one of his early-morning yoga classes and watched him do a sun salutation. He's one of those people who has no business being that perky in the morning, though. It makes me wonder what exactly he _does_ when he first gets out of bed."

"Probably just about anybody he wants," Nathan joked. "Anyway, I figure there aren't too many people who'd be better at taking a newbie in hand than Tyrone, so Brand's probably doing just fine. I just hope he keeps it up. It's weird realizing you're someone's sole support, you know?"

"Yeah, I definitely know that feeling. Anyway, no offense, but can we talk about something other than your hot young superstud? I'd--"

"Superstud?" Nathan repeated. _What drugs are you on?_

"Oh -- just the way you've been going on about him, it's like -- look, never mind. The point is, I was actually calling to ask if you wanted to get dinner."

"Dinner would be great. I was about to get into a parka and go grill something."

"Your fellow Canadians would kick you out of the club for being this much of a weather wuss, man--"

"Hey, I was always this much of a weather wuss. Now I just have more company for it."

"Whatever. Fifty degrees is _not_ cold."

"Says the man who has ice in his veins."

The conversation came to a screeching halt with that, and Nathan realized his foot was so far into his mouth he might actually be choking on it. "I didn't mean -- shit. I just meant you never seem to get cold--"

"Right," Sean said. "Dinner?"

One-word sentences from Sean were a bad sign. A very bad sign. Nathan winced. "Okay, listen. No more talk about Brandon. I will _try_ not to say anything quite that asstastic again. Let's stay in and have dinner -- maybe your place this time. I'll pick up food on the way over. What are you in the mood for?"

Sean was quiet for so long Nathan wasn't completely sure he still had him on the line. "I'll handle the food," he said, finally. "Just come over. Leave your phone at home, though, all right? I don't want you running off if Brandon calls."

"I wouldn't do that to you," Nathan said, rubbing at the center of his chest. This coversation was giving him heartburn. "I'll be over in fifteen. You sure I don't need to bring anything?"

"Just you."

_Bad_ heartburn. Nathan grimaced. "All right. See you soon."

He hung up and put his phone down. _He knows better, right? I wouldn't do that._

All the same, the phone stayed on the counter when he left the house.

~*~

Nathan let himself in and followed his nose to the kitchen. He could smell something being sautéed in garlic, and he could hear the sounds of chopping... ah ha. Sean was slicing up mushrooms. "Looks good," Nathan said. Sean didn't look up, and Nathan had the absurd idea that he really ought to have brought something as a peace offering. _Like what? Flowers?_ "So mushrooms and...? What are they going on?"

"Steak," Sean said. He still wasn't looking up. "You said something about wanting to go out and grill, so I figured we could do that here. With a little more panache, hence the mushrooms."

"That's great. Hey, hang on a minute." This was probably a bad idea -- Sean was _armed_; that chef's knife of his was sharp as hell -- but Nathan reached out anyway, taking Sean by the arm and turning him so they were face to face.

Sean finally looked up. He put his knife down. "What?" he asked.

Nathan weighed the options. Go on instinct and ask forgiveness later; stay true to his agreement with Brandon and leave Sean looking like he'd taken one too many kicks to the gut lately.

It was an easier choice than he'd expected. He bent his head down and kissed Sean, sliding one arm around his waist.

Sean hesitated -- Nathan could feel him trying to make a decision of his own -- and then he kissed back, reaching up and taking hold of Nathan's shirt, keeping Nathan bent down to him. Nathan groaned and tightened his grip on Sean; it'd been a month since he'd had his hands on Sean this way, and just now he couldn't figure out why he'd agreed to give that up.

Sean let him go and pulled back. He was breathing hard, and he'd kept his eyes closed. "You called," he said.

"Huh?"

"You called him. Before you got here."

"No."

That made Sean's eyes snap open, and he frowned at Nathan. "You _didn't_ call. You have room to play now?"

Nathan winced as that sense of heartburn flared up again. "I'm not playing," he said, but that didn't answer the question, so he shook his head. "No. I didn't think that one out. I just -- needed to do it."

"Do it again."

It was halfway between order and invitation, and it really didn't matter which one he meant it as. Nathan kissed him again, ignoring the way the garlic was starting to burn. They'd get more garlic. The tight feeling in his chest loosened up, and he forgot about dinner and all the things he'd said wrong since he'd started seeing Brandon and, by the end of the kiss, Brandon himself.

"Holy shit, Sean," he panted. Sean got a hand behind his neck and squeezed hard. "Sean, turn the fucking stove off."

Sean reached out without looking and snapped the burners off; he slipped his hand around from the back of Nathan's neck to the front, rubbing his thumb down the center of Nathan's throat. "Be sure about this," he said. "This isn't just jumping me before dinner."

"Later," Nathan said, grabbing Sean's wrist. "We'll talk later."

"Since when do you do the talking after-the-fact?" Sean asked.

"When it's you. Take me upstairs."

Sean half-led, half-dragged Nathan upstairs, and when they got to the bedroom there was nothing seductive or playful about it. No striptease, no helping each other out of clothes; Nathan sat down on the edge of the bed and yanked his shoes off, Sean stripped his shirt off and shoved his jeans down to the floor. Nathan barely had time to get his shirt off before Sean was all over him, pushing him onto his back and pinning his arms down. Nathan groaned, and Sean pinned his mouth, too, kissing him and blocking his sounds. No, _swallowing_ them, tongue stroking into Nathan's mouth like he wanted to pull every last moan out of him.

It wasn't enough. Nathan bit at Sean's lower lip, and Sean bit back, teeth sinking in hard enough to make Nathan cry out. Sean pulled back, looking into Nathan's eyes. He pushed himself up, weight resting on Nathan's arm, and let Nathan's other hand go. It didn't matter; Nathan wasn't going anywhere, and his arm stayed right where Sean had put it. Sean stroked his hand over Nathan's chest, and Nathan braced himself for it -- Sean gave his nipple a rough twist, and Nathan curled into it, growling. Sean kept the pressure up until Nathan was hissing out breaths, and then he eased off for a second. "Want it?" he asked.

"Fuck, yes. Harder," Nathan panted. "C'mon. Harder -- _fuck_!"

He got harder; Sean kept the twist up this time, waiting for Nathan to start struggling before he let go. Nathan tried to thrust his hips up, but Sean was balanced on his thighs, and the thrust didn't bring him into contact with anything. "Sean. _Please_..."

Sean moved his hand down from Nathan's chest to his crotch, palm flattening over Nathan's cock. "God, I really want you," he panted, squeezing nice and tight. Enough to make Nathan jerk under him, thrust up against the pressure, but not enough to hurt. "No backing out now."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Good."

Sean popped the button on Nathan's jeans and jerked the zipper down. It would've been fast enough to put Nathan in fear for his genitalia if he hadn't been in every bit as much of a rush to have Sean's body on his, and the goddamned jeans were getting in the way. He struggled out of them as Sean tugged them off him, and he pushed himself back on the bed, crawling up to the pillows and stretching out as Sean grabbed lube and a condom out of the nightstand. Nathan snagged the lube from him and got enough to make it work, too impatient to wait for Sean to lube him up -- hell, too impatient to wait for the lube to get warm. He shoved two fingers into his ass while Sean rolled the condom on, and when Sean was finished, he put a hand on Nathan's thigh and squeezed.

"You look so good like that," he murmured. "Jesus, Nate--"

"Later. Talk _later_." Nathan sat up and wrapped an arm around Sean's neck, dragging him back down and kissing him roughly. Sean groaned and pushed himself between Nathan's legs, squirming until Nathan spread his thighs and let Sean settle in. "Come on, come _on_..."

"Don't be so fucking pushy," Sean panted, but he was already working his way in, one steady inch after another until he could plant both hands on the mattress and jerk his hips forward _hard_. Nathan gasped and put his hands behind his knees, dragging his legs up. Sean's eyes slammed shut, and he gave another rough push forward. Nathan was going to end up pressed into the headboard at this rate. The hell with it; he didn't care. He tried to reach forward, tried to get his hands on Sean's hips to drag him in the rest of the way, but the angle made the stretch awkward. He ended up flat on his back, Sean braced over him, cock flattened against his stomach and leaking precome all over both of them.

"Sean, for God's fucking sake--"

"No," Sean panted. "No, it's been five weeks; I want you out of your head at the end of this."

"I'm already out of my fucking head, goddamnit--"

"Not enough," Sean told him, and he gave him one sharp, deep thrust to punctuate it. "Not -- _enough_."

Nathan didn't ask what would be enough; he didn't ask anything else at all. He dug his hands into the covers and held on as Sean fucked him into the mattress, fucked him hard enough he saw stars. He understood exactly what Sean meant -- this wasn't enough, somehow. He'd needed this, no question about it, but it wasn't enough. He put his hands on Sean's arms and squeezed -- now they'd both end up bruised from this -- and it still wasn't enough. "Sean--"

"_Nate_\--"

That was it. That was what he'd needed. It wasn't the word, wasn't his name; it was the feeling layering the sound. It was the way Nathan knew how much Sean had missed him, and Nathan's wordless, guttural reply said he knew just how close he'd come to fucking this up altogether. This was crazy -- how the hell had he gotten this far without realizing what he and Sean _were_ to each other? -- but that didn't matter. He wasn't going anywhere now, and God, Sean was right, he thought too fucking much, right now all he wanted to do was lie here and get fucked and _Christ_ what the hell did Sean do that made him smell so good--

Sean put one hand down on Nathan's chest and sped up. "That's it," he gasped. "Right there. Right there--" His other hand went between them, and Nathan had to bite back the urge to say _no, right there_ as Sean's hand wrapped around his cock. There was no way he could hold back; he came shouting something, probably not words, and as soon as it was over he collapsed, panting and boneless.

That was obviously just what Sean had been waiting for; he stopped, just holding himself still above Nathan. That wasn't enough for Nathan, though, half-dead or not. He shook his head. "Your turn," he mumbled. "Don't tell me you don't want to--"

Sean laughed. "I was just waiting for the green light from you," he said, and Nathan braced himself for it. Sean could still surprise him after all this time, though -- instead of going in hard and deep, he pulled out and let Nathan stretch his legs. "Roll over," he said. Nathan had enough energy to do that, barely, and he pulled one knee up toward his chest so Sean could slide in nice and easy. He was still sore as hell, but fair was fair, and Sean was nice enough to go easy. He curled into Nathan, forehead resting on Nathan's shoulder, and a few strokes after he'd gotten into a solid rhythm, he sank his teeth into Nathan's skin and hissed out a long, satisfied breath, hips pressed hard to Nathan's ass, cock jerking until the last of it was over.

"Good?" Nathan whispered. Sean nodded, and they squirmed apart just far enough that Sean's cock slipped free of Nathan's body. Nathan managed a soft laugh. "You're going to need to clean up."

"Says the guy on the wet spot."

"It's not so bad."

"Yeah, well... you know me way too well," Sean mumbled, ruffling Nathan's hair and kissing the back of his neck. "Don't move."

"Not even to get off the wet spot?"

"Nope. You stay right there."

Sean hugged him, and Nathan turned his head around, squinting up at him. "Sean?"

"Yeah?"

"I swear, I'm not going anywhere."

Sean looked at him for a few seconds, finally bending his head down and biting Nathan gently on the shoulder. "All right," he murmured. "You can move off the wet spot if you want."

In the end, Nathan decided it was more important to stay exactly where he was and doze than it was to move off the wet spot, and when he heard the spray from Sean's shower starting up, he let himself doze a little deeper. Sean came back and wrapped an arm around him at some point; the smell of his soap penetrated Nathan's sleepy consciousness more than anything else. Sean seemed content to let him stay that way a while, so Nathan took advantage of that. It might have been ten minutes or twenty or an hour. Eventually, he came out of it, and he rolled over to face Sean.

Not good. Sean was wearing his poker face, which meant he didn't want to come right out and say they'd made a mistake. Nathan sighed and pushed himself upright, shoving his fingers through his hair and trying to get enough of his voice back to say something. "Second thoughts?" he asked.

Sean looked surprised for a second, then shook his head as he sat up, too. "No. Third thoughts, fourth thoughts, maybe, but not second thoughts."

"You want to get dressed and try to have that conversation now?"

"I think we'd better. Don't you?"

"Yeah. Where'd my pants go?"

That got a smile out of Sean, almost a laugh. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked around, coming up with Nathan's jeans in his hand. "Right here. You can go rinse off if you want. I did."

"Stop looking so serious. The earth's not going to swallow you." Nathan bent forward and kissed Sean lightly; Sean kissed back, which meant he wasn't pissed off -- just nervous. That was good enough for Nathan, who groaned and crawled out of bed, stumbling off towards the shower. Nervous he could handle.

~*~

Dinner still turned out to be steak. The garlic and what few mushrooms had made it into the pan were a loss, but there was more of both, and without much trouble, Sean got the mushrooms going and started up the broiler for the steak. Nathan cleaned up after him as he went, and once the steaks were in the oven, Sean glanced around the kitchen and pulled a pair of wine glasses out of a cabinet.

"What's that for?" Nathan asked.

"Oh, I think we deserve the good stuff tonight, don't you?" Sean asked.

"I think you're probably looking for a drink to take the edge off how nervous you are." Nathan grinned; Sean's return grin was a little sheepish. "But that doesn't mean you're wrong. Which stuff is the good stuff?"

"Fourth from the left, second row down." Sean pointed toward the pantry and its smallish selection of wines. Well, small being a relative term; it was more than Nathan kept around his house. He was more the beer-and-liquor-cabinet type of guy.

He got the bottle and handed it over, and Sean snagged a corkscrew from a drawer and opened it up. It turned out to be a red wine. Nathan let Sean polish off most of his before he tried getting the conversation started.

"You know I don't--"

"I don't think you'd--"

Sean chuckled and shook his head. "Okay. You first."

_You don't think I'd what?_ Nathan wondered. They'd get back to it. "You know I don't just take leave of my senses and do things on impulse very often," he started. It got another laugh out of Sean, and Nathan raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"You don't, huh? How did you decide to spend six weeks scening with Brandon again?"

"Oh, you _do_ remember his name."

"What?"

Sean did a good fake-confused look, but Nathan knew the difference, and he shook his head. "He's been driving you crazy since I started seeing him," Nathan said. "And I never really got it until now."

"Oh, and now you've got it all figured out?"

Nathan inclined his head toward the stairs. "I think we both got a few things figured out. Or am I wrong about why you dug out wine for this conversation?"

"No," Sean murmured. He took a deep breath, exhaled, took another one. "Okay, no, you're not. And this whole thing of yours has been getting under my skin since you started seeing him -- I'd have a hard time denying that."

"This whole thing?" Nathan repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, Nate. He's what, twenty-five?"

"Twenty-six."

"And he's incredibly pretty. Your motivations have always been pretty obvious."

"If that's your way of saying I'm shallow--"

"You're not shallow at all. You're just much more insecure than you think you are."

"Bullshit," Nathan shot back. "About what?"

"I think you just proved my point." Sean smirked at him; Nathan rolled his eyes. "Which doesn't go very far towards explaining why it's been driving me crazy hearing about him all the time..."

"Now that one I do have figured out." Nathan was still stuck on the word insecure. _Insecure? Since when? About what?_ "I'm just not used to seeing you get jealous about anything."

"Believe me, I wasn't crazy about feeling that way." Sean poured himself another glass of wine; Nathan was still working on his first. "What exactly are you planning to do now?"

"Go ahead, hit me with the hard questions..."

"Well, I don't think you'd go into something like -- this," Sean said, stumbling over it, "like tonight, without knowing what your next few steps were. So I assume you've got them figured out?"

"You're giving me way too much credit."

"And to think a few minutes ago you were saying you don't take leave of your senses and act on impulse very often."

"Well, consider this one of the 'not very's, then." Nathan sighed. "I figure I have two options. One, if you're all right with me finishing out the six-week timeframe we originally had planned, I let him know that you're very much in the picture now, and I finish out the last two and a half weeks with him."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Much as it pains me to admit it, no. I don't think any of the three of us is going to go for that plan."

"So what's the second option?"

"I tell him things have changed and hope he doesn't slug me."

Sean looked worried for a second; he reached out and squeezed Nathan's forearm. "You don't actually think he'd...?"

"No! No, God, no, figure of speech. To be honest, I don't think he's going to have much of a reaction. He takes things pretty much in stride."

"Including his sub running off with another guy?"

"One," Nathan ticked the list off on his fingers, "I'm not 'his' sub. I'm the guy he scenes with. Big difference. Two, you are not just some other guy. If you were, this wouldn't have happened and we wouldn't have to have this conversation."

"Point taken on the second. As for the first, does he know that?"

"I assume so. We've never been anything other than scene partners."

"Scene partners with an exclusive agreement who've been living in each other's pockets for the last month."

Nathan blanched. "Does it really look like that?"

"I'm your best friend and it sure as hell looked like it to me. I don't see why he'd be reading you any differently."

Nathan polished off the rest of his wine and let Sean refill his glass. "That's going to make the conversation a hell of a lot more awkward than I was hoping," he said. "Not that I'm not going to have it anyway. But let me change subjects for a minute." He leaned back against the counter and dug his hands into his pockets. "We're _something_ now. Us. You and me. Am I right about that?"

"I figured that was a given. Apparently what that 'something' might be is up for debate, though." There went Sean's eyebrow again; it was a look that said the ball was in Nathan's court for this one. Nathan sighed. "Lovers?"

"Obviously."

"...Boyfriends?"

The last time Nathan had had someone he considered a boyfriend, it'd been well before he'd met Sean. Sean had gone through a couple since Nathan had known him, but no one in quite a while. "They should give out packages. With fruit baskets or a nice floral arrangement. Something that they send out when you graduate past 'friend' but you're not entirely sure what territory you're in next."

"Something that would lay out the next step, complete with relationship titles? Yeah, that'd be convenient." Sean walked up to Nathan, blocking him in against the counter. "You're avoiding the question."

"I'm trying not to freak out on you. I think I figured if we were ever going to do the relationship thing, we'd have done it by now."

"Life has a funny way of surprising people--"

The timer on the oven went off. Nathan let out a relieved breath as Sean checked on the steaks. "Saved by the bell," Sean said, getting food onto plates. "I expect an answer to that question by the time we're done with dinner."

"Great, I've got a time limit."

"You can always eat slowly."

"I'm not going to be able to eat at _all_ with a question like that hanging over my head," Nathan grumbled. "All right, look -- I did assume that tonight was the start of something that looked a lot more serious than just friends, lovers, and more-than-occasional play partners. So if the right term for that is 'boyfriends', then that's that." Sean wasn't looking at him, but he was grinning all the same. "Just don't pick out curtains and don't expect one of us to start moving in with the other just yet, all right? This is pretty new for us."

Sean picked up both plates and headed for the dining room. "Relax, Nate," he said over his shoulder. "If the earth hasn't already swallowed us up, I don't think it's going to."

"That was my line," Nathan said, but he figured he could live with Sean appropriating it.


	10. No Good Way To Do This; You're Not Gonna Forget Me Anytime Soon

None of the choices for this kind of conversation were much good. There was doing it at Nathan's place, which meant Nathan got the home-court advantage and Brandon had to drive himself home at the end of it. Not good, especially not if Brandon was pissed off at the end of it. Brandon had seemed basically unflappable throughout the time Nathan had been scening with him, but that didn't mean having a contract called off short was going to agree with him.

There was doing it at Brandon's place, which meant Nathan had to abandon him at the end of the conversation. It gave Nathan a little more control in case things went badly, but he was optimistic enough to think it wouldn't be such a disaster he'd need to make a fast getaway. He was also realistic enough to realize that no matter how it went, just walking out at the end of the conversation would put one hell of a punctuation mark on it. Definitely not the best solution.

Option number three was doing it at the club, which meant either getting a room -- which implied sex, something that wasn't going to happen -- or doing this in public. There were little pockets of privacy all over the club, yeah, but the end of the conversation still meant they'd both have to walk through a crowd of people, some of whom might have been eavesdropping, in order to get out. No, scratch that one.

Okay. All in all, Nathan's place felt like the best choice. Frankly, Nathan could use the home-court advantage; he was feeling guilty enough as it was. It gave Brandon autonomy -- he'd be choosing when and how to leave. Privacy was a given.

Next on the agenda: figure out how to tell him. Nathan had been through enough breakups to figure that, while a good meal was a nice thought, in practice it tended to draw out the whole thing. Best to be simple, honest, and direct. He'd made a career out of that, more or less, and it'd be easier on him just getting through it as fast as he could.

By now he owed Brandon a phone call anyway; Brandon had called him while he was over at Sean's. In fact, Brandon had called more than once -- once on Wednesday night, not long after Nathan had left, and once on Thursday afternoon. That second call gave Nathan some uncomfortable twinges of guilt; he'd been with Sean, still, joking with him and wrestling with him and rolling around in bed, both of them enjoying their newly-defined relationship while avoiding the actual word _boyfriend_ as much as possible. Nathan had thought about going home Thursday. He'd thought about it very seriously. Right up until the minute Sean said "Fuck me?" and Nathan couldn't get the condom on fast enough.

By the time they'd gotten themselves cleaned up after _that_ it was almost ten, and Nathan figured any conversation he could start up with Brandon could wait until the weekend.

"I'll be around," Sean had promised. "Just call me if you need anything."

"Thanks. It'll be fine," Nathan had reassured him. _I hope._

He dialed Brandon's number. _You're probably overthinking this,_ he told himself, pacing in the center of his living room. _It's possible he'll take it just fine._

Brandon picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Brandon, it's Nathan. How are you?"

"I'm all right. Where have you been? I couldn't get a hold of you."

"Well, there's kind of a story to that. Are you busy right now?"

"Busy," Brandon repeated. He sounded confused; Nathan couldn't blame him. "Uh, no, I'm not busy."

"Good. Why don't you head over, and we'll talk when you get here?"

Brandon was quiet for a couple of seconds. "That sounds... vaguely ominous," he said. "What's going on?"

Nathan winced. _And here I'd been trying not to start with "We need to talk"..._ "What's going on is something I kind of don't want to get into over the phone," he said. "Can you head this way?"

"Sure." Brandon didn't hang up right away, though, and Nathan didn't want to start this by hanging up on him. "Listen... you're not pissed off at me or anything, are you?" he asked. "I know things didn't go perfectly the last time--"

"No no no, God, no, you haven't done anything wrong." _I'm just a complete dick who somehow managed to forget that we ended our last face-to-face scene with you all nervous and needing reassurance._ "This is all me. Come on over so I can explain and apologize a couple dozen times."

"I'm not going to get anything else out of you over the phone, am I?" Brandon asked.

"Well. You _could_," Nathan said. "But I'd really rather do this in person." Oh, now he was just screwed; _I want to do this in person_ probably tied for _We need to talk_ in terms of phrases you never wanted to hear your partner say, no matter how casual things were between you.

"Yeah," Brandon said, and Nathan winced just hearing it. "All right. I'll be right over."

He hung up, and Nathan sighed as he put his phone away. He was tempted to call Sean for moral support, but no -- this was his mess, and he could damned well get through it on his own.

By the time Brandon rang the doorbell, Nathan had practically worn a hole in his living room carpet. He half-sprinted to the front door, holding it open for a very nervous-looking Brandon. "Hey," he said. "Come on in."

"Thanks," Brandon told him. He walked inside and shoved his hands into his back pockets as Nathan closed the door behind him. "So what's going on?"

"Come sit down with me." Nathan didn't wait for Brandon to take him up on the offer; he headed down the hallway to the living room and took a seat on the couch. Brandon followed him, and sat down on the sofa, looking around as if expecting something to jump out from behind the furniture. "Okay, so... when we first got started, I agreed to six weeks of exclusive contact with you because there was no one else in my life."

"Ah," Brandon said, leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees and he was propping his chin up with his hands. "All right, so that _is_ where this is going..."

Nathan winced all over again. "Yeah, it is, and I'm sorry for it. I truly am. You're a great guy--" _all right, good, you didn't say "a great kid" to his face--_ "and you're turning into one hell of a fun top to play with, but..."

"But there's somebody else, and you'd rather pass on the last two weeks of our agreement." Brandon glanced over at him. "Would I, ah... would I be correct in assuming the 'someone else' is Sean?"

Nathan blinked at him in surprise. "Yeah," he said quietly, "Sean Maher, the guy who's been my best friend for the last three years or so. How did you know that?"

"You mention him a lot," Brandon said, and if Nathan had thought he couldn't feel any worse about all this, he'd been wrong. "Look, I'm not going to say I'm not upset -- I really thought we had something special here--"

"We did," Nathan said immediately. "I mean -- of course we do, but I thought -- I don't think it's fair to any of the three of us to keep playing together like there's nothing else going on. What you need more than anything is a sub who can bring a clear head to the table, and I'm not that guy anymore."

"You know, I'm not sure which is worse -- hearing you tell me what I need or knowing you're right." Brandon shook his head. "Have you been seeing him all along?"

That hurt, too, and Nathan shook his head. "As friends, and that's it, until two days ago. I knew the timing was bad, but... have you ever looked at someone you've known for what seems like forever and realized if you didn't do something to save your friendship right then, it'd all be over for good?"

Brandon looked at him, and he held the look for long enough Nathan felt like wincing again. "Yeah," he said. Nathan resisted the urge to point out that knowing someone for a little over a month was not the same as a three-year friendship that meant the world to you; if Brandon wanted to make that last statement about the two of them, he had the right. "And I think right now what I have to do is be gracious about this and let you go."

_Gracious or not, man, you can't really stop me._ Nathan sighed. "Thanks," he murmured. "You know, I meant it -- what I said about you being good at what you're doing. You're getting better at this all the time, and it's been an honor being there on the ground floor while you're learning--"

"Would you _please_ not give me any of this 'it's an honor' bullshit?" Brandon asked, pushing to his feet and jamming his hands back into his back pockets. "Honors are for _work_, you know, for making a _difference_ to people, and when people pull phrases like that out of their asses when they're breaking up with somebody, it's one of those cheap, feel-good things that's supposed to give an ego boost to the poor schmuck who's getting dumped. It doesn't _mean_ anything."

Nathan rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay, I deserve that," he mumbled. "What would you want to hear right now? Anything?"

"Probably not," Brandon admitted. He looked down at the floor and shook his head. "There are a dozen different ways I can go from here, and I _know_ that. You don't have to give me a pep talk, and you don't have to give me the 'more fish in the sea' speech, because I know all those things. What I don't know is whether we're going to come out of this okay when the awkwardness wears off. Can I come to you with questions when I've got them, or problems if I'm having them? Because I meant it every time when I said half the reason this was so good for me was being able to talk to you after all the scenes we did. I'm not going to stop needing an ear just because you're not the guy with the bruises."

"Oh, hey, I'd be glad to be that ear for you," Nathan said, standing up and walking over. He stopped just shy of reaching out to touch Brandon -- that was a decision best left to Brandon himself -- but he was within arm's length. "If you need me to listen, if you _ever_ need me to listen, I'd like to be there for you."

"Thanks," Brandon said quietly, eyes still focused on the carpet between his feet. "All right, look -- I'd better go before I start embarrassing myself." He glanced up at Nathan. "Can I call you a few days from now? When things are a little more settled in my head?"

"Of course." It was too awkward not doing _something_ to reach out to him; eventually, Nathan settled on extending a hand.

Brandon looked down at it, then up at Nathan. He shook his head, grinning, and used it to yank Nathan into a hard hug. Nathan hugged back, feeling guilty and relieved and glad as hell that even if Brandon wasn't leaving happy -- like there was any way he could've left happy -- he wasn't yelling or throwing things or making this any more difficult than it had to be.

"I _am_ going to miss scening with you," Brandon murmured. "You make some incredible sounds when you're hurting."

Well, he wasn't making it _much_ more difficult than it had to be. "Thanks," Nathan said. "I'm going to miss it, too."

Brandon pulled away and exhaled softly. "Okay," he said. "So I'll call you?"

"Whenever you want."

He tipped his head back towards the front door. "I'll let myself out, if it's okay with you," he said.

"That's fine."

And he headed off, without giving so much as a look back.

Nathan sighed hard and sank back into his armchair. "That could've been a lot worse," he murmured. "A lot worse." He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed up Sean. It only took one ring for Sean to answer.

"Hey, stranger," Nathan said. "You want to head this way? I'm free for the foreseeable future."

_-end-_


End file.
